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VIEWS A-FOOT; 



OR, 



Europe seen with Knapsack and Staff. 



BY 

(jj BAYARD TAYLOR. 



WITH A PREFACE BY N. P. WILLIS. 

^.a..3&..-.a.j«». . 



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"Jog on, jog ^, the foot-path wayc^HED lo75, 
And merrili^*' hent the stile-a; 
A merry heart goes all the day, 
Your sad tires in a mile-a." 

Winter s Tale. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

DAVID McKAY, PUBLISHER, 

23 South Ninth Street. 

1890. 







TO 



FRANK TAYLOE 



THESE RECORDS OF THE PILGRIMAGE 



WHOSE TOILS AND ENJOYMENTS WE HAVE SHARED TOGETHER 



ARE 



AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 



BY 



HIS RELATIVE AND FRIEND. 



h Oa PUBLIC LIBB^I. 
SEPT. 1€>, 1940 



TO THE KEADER 



In presenting to the public a new and improved edition 
of this record of his wanderings, the author could not 
justly suffer the opportunity to go by without expressing 
his grateful acknowledgment of the kindness with which 
his work has been received. Although his aim was simply 
to give a narrative of personal experience which it was 
hoped might be of some value to many a toiling student in 
the college of the world, he was aware that it would be 
considered a test of his literary ability, and that whatever 
hearing he might have hoped to obtain for the works of 
maturer years would be dependent on its success. With a 
total ignorance of the arts of book-making, and uncertain 
whether a new voice from the track where thousands had 
been before him would find a patient auditory, it was there- 
fore not without considerable anxiety that he gave his vol- 
ume to the world. But he. was not prepared to hope for 
such an immediate and generous favor as it received. By 
the press of our own country, as well as the more rigid re- 
viewers of Great Britain, whatever merits it possesses were 
cordially appreciated, while its faults were but lightly 
touched — perhaps from a sympathy with the youth of the 
author and the plan of his enthusiastic pilgrimage. But, 
what was most grateful of all, he learned that many another 
young and hopeful spirit had been profited and encouraged 
by his own experience and was ready to try the world with 
as little dependence on worldly means. The letters he re- 
ceived from persons whose hopes and circumstances were 



6 TO THE KEADEE. 

what his own had been gave welcome evidence that he had 
not written in vain. He will not say that this knowledge 
repaid him for whatever toil and hardship he had under- 
gone — whoever is subjected to the same experience will 
learn that it brings its own reward to the mind — but it will 
nerve him henceforth to bear any lot, however severe, 
through which he may be enabled to say a word that shall 
cheer or strengthen another. 

He is now fully aware how much he has omitted from 
these pages which would have been curious, and perhaps 
instructive, to the reader, how many blunders of inexpe- 
rience, how much thoughtless confidence in the world, how 
many painful struggles with pride and a too-selfish inde- 
pendence, how many strange extremities of want and amus- 
ing expedients of relief. His reluctance to relate much 
that was entirely personal and could not have been told 
without some little sacrifice of feeling has since been re- 
gretted, from the belief that it might have been useful to 
others. Perhaps, however, it will be better that each one 
should learn these lessons for himself. There is a sensation 
of novelty which, in the most embarrassing situations, pro- 
duces a desperate kind of enjoyment, and, in addition to 
this, the sufferer's sympathies for humanity are very much 
deepened and enlarged by an acquaintance with its trials. 

In preparing the present edition of his book the author 
at first contemplated a complete revision. The fact that 
seven editions had been sold in a year and a half from the 
publication seemed to require that he should make such 
improvements as his riper judgment suggested, and which 
should render it more worthy of so extensive a circulation. 
But further reflection convinced him that it would be best 
to make little change. It was written during his wander- 
ings — partly by the wayside when resting at midday, and 
partly on the rough tables of peasant-inns, in the stillness 
of deserted ruins or amid the sublime solitude of the moun- 
tain-top. It thus reflects faithfully the impress of his own 



TO THE EEADEK. 7 

mind in every part of the journey, and he would prefer 
that it should remain a boyish work, however lacking in 
finish of composition, rather than risk taking away what- 
ever spirit it may have caught from nature. Some particu- 
lars which have been desired by persons about to undertake 
a similar journey, and which may be generally interesting, 
have been given in a new chapter at the close. With this 
addition, and that of a sketch illustrating the costume of a 
pedestrian, which has been made by a poet and artist 
friend, the work is again given to the public. The author 
may hereafter be better able to deserve their commendation. 
His wanderings are not yet over. 

New York, August, 1848. 



PEEFAOE 

BY N. P. WILLIS. 



The book which follows requires little or no introduc 
tion. It tells its own story, and tells it well. The interest 
in it which induces the writer of this preface to be its usher 
to the public is simply that of his having chanced to be 
among the first appreciators of the author's talent — an ap- 
preciation that has since been so more than justified that 
the writer is proud to call the author of this book his 
friend, and bespeak attention to the peculiar energies he 
has displayed in travel and authorship. Mr. Taylor's poet- 
ical productions while he was still a printer's apprentice 
made a strong impression on the writer's mind, and he 
gave them their due of praise accordingly in the newspaper 
of which he was then editor. Some correspondence ensued, 
and other fine pieces of writing strengthened the admira- 
tion thus awakened ; and when the young poet-mechanic 
came to the city and modestly announced the bold determi- 
nation of visiting foreign lands — with means, if they could 
be got, but with reliance on manual labor if they could 
not — ^the writer, understanding the man, and seeing how 
capable he was of carrying out his manly and enthusiastic 
scheme, and that it would work uncorruptingly for the im- 
provement of his mind and character, counselled him to go. 
He went : his book tells how successfully for all his pur- 
poses. He has returned, after two years' absence, with 
large knowledge of the world of men and of manners, with 
a pure, invigorated and healthy mind, having passed all 

9 



10 



PKEFACE. 



this time abroad, and seen and accomplished more than 
most travellers, at a cost of only five hundred dollars, and 
this sum earned on the road. This, in the writer's opin- 
ion, is a fine instance of character and energy. The book 
which records the difficulties and struggles of a printer's 
apprentice achieving this must be interesting to Americans. 
The pride of the country is in its self-made men. 

What Mr. Taylor is, or what he is yet to become, cannot 
well be touched upon here, but that it will yet be written, 
and on a bright page, is, of course, his own confident hope 
and the writer's confident expectation. The book which is 
the record of his progress thus far is now cordially com- 
mended to the public, and it will be read, perhaps, more 
understandingly after a perusal of the following outline 
sketch of the difiiculties the author had to contend with — a 
letter written in reply to a note from the writer asking for 
some of the particulars of his start and progress : 

To Mr. Willis— 

My Dear Sir : Nearly three years ago (in the begin- 
ning of 1844) the time for accomplishing my long-cherished 
desire of visiting Europe seemed to arrive. A cousin who 
had long intended going abroad was to leave in a few 
months, and, although I was then surrounded by the most 
unfavorable circumstances, I determined to accompany him, 
at whatever hazard. I had still two years of my appren- 
ticeship to serve out ; I was entirely without means, and 
my project was strongly opposed by my friends as some- 
thing too visionary to be practicable. A short time before, 
Mr: Griswold advised me to publish a small volume of 
youthful effusions, a few of which had appeared in Gra- 
ham^ s Magazine, which he then edited ; the idea struck me 
that by so doing I might, if they should be favorably no- 
ticed, obtain a newspaper correspondence which would 
enable me to make the start. 

The volume was published ; a sufficient number was sold 




PEEFACE. 

among my friends to defray all expenses, and it was chari- 
tably noticed by the Philadelphia press. Some literary 
friends to whom I confided my design promised to aid me 
with their influence. Trusting to this, I made arrangements 
for leaving the printing-office, which I succeeded yi doing 
by making a certain compensation for the remainder of my 
time. I Avas now fully confident of success, feeling satisfied 
that a strong will would always make itself a way. After 
many applications to different editors and as many disap- 
pointments, I finally succeeded, about two weeks before our 
departure, in making a partial engagement. Mr. Chandler 
of the United States Gazette and Mr. Patterson of the Sat- 
urday Evening Post paid me fifty dollars, each, in advance 
for twelve letters, to be sent from Europe, with the proba- 
bility of accepting more if these should be satisfactory. 
This, with a sum which I received from Mr. Graham for 
poems published in his magazine, put me in possession of 
about a hundred and forty dollars, with which I determined 
to start, trusting to future remuneration for letters, or if 
that should fail, to my skill as a compositor, for I supposed 
I could at the worst, work my way through Europe, like 
the German hand worker. Thus, with another companion, 
we left home, an enthusiastic and hopeful trio. 

I need not trace our wanderings at length. After eight 
months of suspense, during which time my small means 
were entirely exhausted, I received a letter from Mr. Pat- 
terson, continuing the engagement for the remainder of my 
stay, with a remittance of one hundred dollars from him- 
self and Mr. Graham. Other remittances, received from 
time to time, enabled me to stay abroad two years, during 
which I travelled on foot upward of three thousand miles 
in Germany, Switzerland, Italy and France. I was obliged, 
however, to use the strictest economy — to live on pilgrim 
fare and do penance in rain and cold. My means several 
times entirely failed ; but I was always relieved from seri- 
ous difficulty through unlooked-for friends or some unex- 



12 PEEFACE. 

pected turn of fortune. At Rome, owing to tlie expenses 
and embarrassments of travelling in Italy, I was obliged to 
give up my original design of proceeding on foot to Naples 
and across the peninsula to Otranto, sailing thence to Corfu 
and m^ing a pedestrian journey through Albania and 
Greece. But the main object of my pilgrimage is accom- 
plished. I visited the principal places of interest in Europe, 
enjoyed her grandest scenery and the marvels of ancient 
and modern art, became familiar with other languages, 
other customs and other institutions, and returned home, 
after two years' absence, willing now, with satisfied curiosity, 
to resume life in America. 

Yours, most sincerely, 

J. Bayard Taylor. 



OOITTENTS. 



CHAPTER 



PAGE 

I.— The Voyage 15 

II. — A Day in Ireland 22 

III.— Ben Lomond and the Highland Lakes 27 

IV.— The Burns Festival 38 

V. — Walk from Edinburgh over the Border, and Arrival at 

London 45 

VI.— Some of the " Sights " of London 55 

VII.— Flight through Belgium 64 

VIII.— The Khine to Heidelberg 70 

IX. — Scenes In and Around Heidelberg 76 

X. — A Walk through the Odenwald 86 

XL— Scenes in Frankfort. — An American Composer. — The 

Poet Freiligrath 92 

XIL— A Week among the Students 101 

XIIL— Christmas and New Year in Germany 108 

XIV.— Winter in Frankfort.— A Fair, an Inundation and a 

Fire 113 

XV.— The Dead and the Deaf.— Mendelssohn the Composer . 124 

XVL — Journey on Foot from Frankfort to Cassel 129 

XVII. — Adventures among the Hartz 136 

XVIII. — Notes in Leipsic and Dresden 147 

XIX.— Kambles in the Saxon Switzerland ■ • • 157 

XX. — Scenes in Prague 166 

XXL— Journey through Eastern Bohemia and Moravia to the 

Danube 172 

XXIL— Vienna 180 

XXIIL— Up the Danube 197 

XXIV.— The Unknown Student 204 

XXV.— The Austrian Alps 207 

XXVI.— Munich . . .• 217 

13 



14 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXVII.— Through Wurtemberg to Heidelberg 231 

XXVIII.— Freiburg and the Black Forest 240 

XXIX. — People and Places in Eastern Switzerland .... 249 
XXX. — Passage of the St. Gothard and Descent into Italy • 259 

XXXI.— Milan 271 

XXXII.— Walk from Milan to Genoa . 277 

XXXIII. — Scenes in Genoa, Leghorn and Pisa ....... 283 

XXXIV.— Florence and its Galleries 294 

XXXV.— A Pilgrimage to Vallombrosa 307 

XXXVI. — Walk to Siena and Pratolino. — Incidents in Flor- 
ence .... 314 

XXXVIL— American Art in Florence 327 

XXXVIII.— An Adventure on the Great St. Bernard.— Walks 

around Florence 335 

XXXIX. — Winter-Travelling among the Apennines .... 344 

XL.— Eome 355 

XLI. — Tivoli and the Roman Campagna 371 

XLII. — Tivoli and the Roman Campagna [continued) . . . 380 
XLIII. — Pilgrimage to Vaucluse and Journey up the Rhone 386 
XLIV. — Travelling in Burgundy. — The Miseries of a 

Country Diligence 399 

XLV.— Poetical Scenes in Paris 406 

XLVI.— A Glimpse of Normandy 414 

XL VII. — Lockhart, Bernard Barton and Croly. — London 

Chimes and Greenwich Fair 418 

XLVIII. — Homeward Bound. — Conclusion 427 

XLIX. — Advice and Information for Pedestrians 437 



VIEWS A-FOOT. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE VOYAGE. 



An enthusiastic desire of visiting the Old World haunted 
me from early childhood. I cherished a presentiment, 
amounting almost to belief, that I should one day behold 
the scenes among which my fancy had so long wandered. 
The want of means was for a time a serious check to my 
anticipations, but I could not content myself to wait until 
I had slowly accumulated so large a sum as tourists usually 
spend on their travels. It seemed to me that a more hum- 
ble method of seeing the world would place within the 
power of almost every one what has hitherto been deemed 
the privilege of the wealthy few. Such a journey, too, of- 
fered advantages for becoming acquainted with people as 
well as places — for observing more intimately the effect of 
government and education, and, more than all, for the study 
of human nature, in every condition of life. At length I 
became possessed of a small sum, to be earned by letters 
descriptive of things abroad, and on the 1st of July, 1844, 
set sail for Liverpool, with a relative and friend whose cir- 
cumstances were somcAvhat similar to mine. How far the 
success of the experiment and the object of our long pil- 
grimage were attained these pages will show. 

LAND AND SEA. 

There are springs that rise in the greenwood's heart, 
Where its leafy glooms are cast, 

15 



16 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

And the branches droop in the solemn air, 

Unstirred by the sweeping blast. 
Tliere are hills that lie in the noontide calm, 

On the lap of the quiet earth ; 
And, crown'd with gold by the ripened grain. 

Surround my place of birth. 

Dearer are these to my pining heart 

Than the beauty of the deep, 
When the moonlight falls in a belt of gold 

On the waves that heave in sleep. 
The rustling talk of the clustered leaves 

That shade a well-known door 
Is sweeter far than the booming sound 

Of the breaking wave before. 

When night on the ocean sinks calmly down, 

I climb the vessel's prow, 
Where the foam-wreath glows with its phosphor light 

Like a crown on a sea-nymph's brow. 
Above, through the lattice of rope and spar, 

The stars in their beauty burn, 
And the spirit longs to ride their beams, 

And back to the loved return. 

They say that the sunset is brighter far 

When it sinks behind the sea — 
That the stars shine out with a softer fire : 

Not thus they seem to me. 
Dearer the flush of the crimson west 

Through trees that my childhood knew, 
When the star of love, with its silver lamp, 

Lights the homes of the tried and true I 

Could one live on the sense of beauty aloi^e, exempt from 
tlie necessity of " creature comforts," a sea-voyage would be 
delightful. To the landsman there is sublimity in the wild 
and ever-varied forms of the ocean ; they fill his mind with 
living images of a glory he had only dreamed of before. 
But we would have been willing to forego all this and get 
back the comforts of the shore. At New York we took 
passage in the second cabin of the Oxford, which, as usual 



i 

1 



ON THE ATLANTIC. 17 

in the Liverpool packets, consisted of a small space amid- 
ships, fitted up with rough, temporary berths. The com- 
munication with the deck is by an open hatchway which in 
storms is closed down. As the passengers in this cabin fur- 
nish their own provisions, we made ourselves acquainted 
with the contents of certain storehouses on Pine street 
wharf, and purchased a large box of provisions, which was 
stowed away under our narrow berth. The cook, for a 
small compensation, took on himself the charge of prepar- 
ing them, and we made ourselves as comfortable as the close, 
dark dwelling would admit. 

As we approached the Banks of Newfoundland a gale 
arose which for two days and nights carried us on, career- 
ing Mazeppa-like, up hill and down. The sea looked truly 
magnificent, although the sailors told us it was nothing at 
all in comparison with the storms of winter. But we were 
not permitted to pass the Banks without experiencing one 
of the calms for which that neighborhood is noted. For 
three days we lay almost motionless on the glassy water, 
sometimes surrounded by large flocks of sea-gulls. The 
weed brought by the Gulf Stream floated around. Some 
branches we fished up were full of beautiful little shells. 
Once a large school of blackfish came around the vessel, 
and the carpenter climbed down on the fore-chains with a 
harpoon to strike one. Scarcely had he taken his position, 
when they all darted off* in a straight line through the 
water, and were soon out of sight. He said they smelt the 
harpoon. 

We congratulated ourselves on having reached the Banks 
in seven days, as it is considered the longest third part of 
the passage. But the hopes of reaching Liverpool in twenty 
days were soon overthrown. A succession of southerly 
winds drove the vessel as far north as latitude fifty-five de- 
grees, without bringing us much nearer our destination. It 
was extremely cold, for we were but five degrees south of 
the latitude of Greenland, and the long Northern twilights 
2 



18 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

came on. The last glow of the evening twilight had scarcely- 
faded before the first glimmering of dawn appeared. I 
found it extremely easy to read at ten p. m. on the deck. 

We had much diversion on board from a company of 
Iowa Indians under the celebrated chief White Cloud, who 
are on a visit to England. They are truly a wild-enough 
looking company, and helped not a little to relieve the te- 
dium of the passage. The chief was a very grave and dig- 
nified person, but some of the braves were merry enough. 
One day we had a war-dance on deck, which was a most 
ludicrous scene. The chief and two braves sat upon the 
deck beating violently a small drum and howling forth 
their war-song, while the others in full-dress, painted in a 
grotesque style, leaped about, brandishing tomahawks and 
spears, and terminating each dance with a terrific yell. 
Some of the men are very fine-looking, but the squaws are 
all ugly. They occupied part of the second cabin, sepa- 
rated only by a board partition from our room. This prox- 
imity was anything but agreeable. They kept us awake 
more than half the night by singing and howling in the 
most dolorous manner, with the accompaniment of slapping 
their hands violently on their bare breasts. We tried an 
opposition, and a young German student who was returning 
home after two years' travel in America made our room 
ring with the chorus from Der Freischutz ; but in vain. 
They would howl and beat their breasts, and the pappoose 
would squall. Any loss of temper is therefore not to be 
wondered at when I state that I could scarcely turn in my 
berth, much less stretch myself out ; my cramped limbs 
alone drove off" half the night's slumber. 

It was a pleasure, at least, to gaze on their strong athletic 
frames. Their massive chests and powerful limbs put to 
shame our dwindled proportions. One old man in particu- 
lar, who seemed the patriarch of the band, used to stand 
for hours on the quarter deck sublime and motionless as a 
statue of Jupiter. An interesting incident occurred during 



FIEST SIGHT OF LAND. 19 

the calm of which I spoke. They began to be fearful we 
were doomed to remain there for ever unless the spirits were 
invoked for a favorable wind. Accordingly the prophet lit 
his pipe and smoked with great deliberation, muttering all 
the while in a low voice. Then, having obtained a bottle 
of beer from the captain, he poured it solemnly over the 
stern of the vessel into the sea. There were some indica- 
tions of wind at the time, and accordingly the next morn- 
ing we had a fine breeze, which the lowas attributed solely 
to the prophet's incantation and Eolus's love of beer. 

After a succession of calms and adverse winds, on the 
25th we were off the Hebrides, and, though not within sight 
of land, the southern winds came to us strongly freighted 
with the " meadow freshness " of the Irish bogs, so we could 
at least smell it. That day the wind became more favor- 
able, and the next morning we were all roused out of our 
berths by sunrise at the long-wished-for cry of " Land !" 
Just under the golden flood of light that streamed through 
the morning clouds lay afar off and. indistinct the crags of 
an island with the top of a lighthouse visible at one extrem- 
ity. To the south of it, and barely distinguishable, so com- 
pletely was it blended in hue with the veiling cloud, loomed 
up a lofty mountain. I shall never forget the sight. As 
we drew nearer, the dim and soft outline it first wore was 
broken into a range of crags with lofty precipices jutting 
out to the sea and sloping off inland. The white wall of 
the lighthouse shone in the morning's light, and the foam 
of the breakers dashed up at the foot of the airy cliffs. It 
was worth all the troubles of a long voyage to feel the glo- 
rious excitement which this herald of new scenes and new 
adventures created. The lighthouse was on Tory Island, 
on the north-western coast of Ireland. The captain decided 
on taking the North Channel, for, although rarely done, it 
was in our case nearer, and is certainly more interesting 
than the usual route. 

We passed the island of Ennistrahul, near the entrance 



20 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

of Londonderry harbor, and at sunset saw in the distance 
the islands of Islay and Jura, off the Scottish coast. Next 
morning we were close to the promontory of Fairhead, a 
bold, precipitous headland, like some of the Palisades on 
the Hudson ; the highlands of the Mull of Cantire were on 
the opposite side of the Channel, and, the wind being ahead, 
we tacked from shore to shore, running so near the Irish 
coast that we could see the little thatched huts, stacks of 
peat, and even rows of potatoes in the fields. It was a pan- 
orama: the view extended for miles inland, and the fields 
of difierent-colored grain were spread out before us, a bril- 
liant mosaic. Toward evening we passed Ailsa Crag, the 
sea-bird's home, within sight, though about twenty miles 
distant. 

On Sunday, the 28th, we passed the lofty headland of 
the Mull of Galloway and entered the Irish Sea. Here 
there was an occurrence of an impressive nature. A wo- 
man belonging to the steerage who had been ill the whole 
passage died the morning before. She appeared to be of a 
very avaricious disposition, though this might indeed have 
been the result of self-denial practised through filial afiTec- . 
tion. In the morning she was speechless, and while they 
were endeavoring to persuade her to give up her keys to 
the captain died. In her pocket were found two parcels 
containing forty sovereigns sewed up with the most miserly 
care. It was ascertained she had a widowed mother in the 
North of Ireland, and, judging her money could be better 
applied than to paying for a funeral on shore, the captain 
gave orders for committing the body to the waves. It rained 
drearily as her corpse, covered with starred bunting, was 
held at the gangway while the captain read the funeral ser- 
vice ; then one plunge was heard, and a white object 
flashed up through the dark waters as the ship passed on. 

In the afternoon we passed the Isle of Man, having a 
beautiful view of the Calf, with a white stream tumbling 
down the rocks into the sea, and at night saw the sun set 



A SCENE OF CONFUSION. 21 

behind the mountains of Wales. About midnight the pilot 
came on board, and soon after sunrise I saw the distant 
spires of Liverpool. The Welsh coast was studded with 
windmills, all in motion, and the harbor spotted with buoys, 
bells and floating lights. How delightful it was to behold 
the green trees on the banks of the Mersey, and to know 
that in a few hours we should be on land ! About eleven 
o'clock we came to anchor in the channel of the Mersey, near 
the docks, and after much noise, bustle and confusion were 
transferred, with our baggage, to a small steamboat, giving 
a parting cheer to the lowas, who remained on board. On 
landing, I stood a moment to observe the scene. The bag- 
gage-wagons, drawn by horses, mules and donkeys, were 
extraordinary; men were going about crying " The celebrated 
Tralorum gingerbread !" which they carried in baskets, and 
a boy in the university dress, with long blue gown and yel- 
low knee-breeches, was running to the wharf to look at the 
Indians. 

At last the carts were all loaded, the word was given to 
start, and then what a scene ensued ! Away went the mules, 
the horses and the donkeys ; away ran men and women and 
children, carrying chairs and trunks, and boxes and bed- 
ding. The wind was blowing and the dust whirled up as 
they dashed helter-skelter through the gate and started off 
on a hot race down the dock to the depot. Two wagons 
came together, one of which was overturned, scattering the 
broken boxes of a Scotch family over the pavement ; but 
while the poor woman was crying over her loss the tide 
swept on, scarcely taking time to glance at the mishap. 

Our luggage was " passed " with little trouble, the officer 
merely opening the trunks and pressing his hands on the 
top. Even some American reprints of English works which 
my companion carried, and feared would be taken from him, 
were passed over without a word. I was agreeably sur- 
prised at this, as, from the accounts of some travellers, I had 
been led to fear horrible things of custom-houses. This 



22 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

over, we took a stroll about the city. I was first struck by 
seeing so many people walking in the middle of the streets, 
and so many gentlemen going about with pinks stuck in 
their buttonholes. Then, the houses being all built of brown 
granite or dark brick gives the town a sombre appearance, 
which the sunshine (when there is any) cannot dispel. Of 
Liverpool we saw little. Before the twilight had wholly 
faded, we were again tossing on the rough waves of the 
Irish Sea. 



CHAPTER II. 

A DAY IN IRELAND. 



On calling at the steamboat-office in Liverpool to take 
passage to Port Rush, we found that the fare in the fore 
cabin was but two shillings and a half, while in the chief 
cabin it was six times as much. As I had started to make 
the tour of all Europe with a sum little higher than is some- 
times given for the mere passage to and fro, there was no 
alternative, the twenty-four hours' discomfort could be more 
easily endured than the expense, and, as I expected to en- 
counter many hardships, it was best to make a beginning. 
I had crossed the ocean with tolerable comfort for twenty- 
four dollars, and was determined to try whether England, 
where I had been told it was almost impossible to breathe 
without expense, might not also be seen by one of limited 
means. 

The fore cabin was merely a bare room with a bench 
along one side, which was occupied by half a dozen Irish- 
men in knee-breeches and heavy brogans. As we passed 
out of the Clarence Dock at 10 p. m. I went below, and 
managed to get a seat on one end of the bench, where I 
spent the night in sleepless misery. The Irish bestowed 



DISAGEEEABLE WEATHER. 23 

themselves about the floor as they best could, for there was 
no light, and very soon the Morpliean deepness of their 
breathing gave token of blissful unconsciousness. 

The next morning was misty and rainy, but I preferred 
walking the deck and drying myself occasionally beside the 
chimney to sitting in the dismal room below. We passed 
the Isle of Man, and through the whole forenoon were 
tossed about very disagreeably in the North Channel. In 
the afternoon we stopped at Larne, a little antiquated vil- 
lage not far from Belfast, at the head of a crooked arm of 
the sea. There is an old ivy-grown tower near, and high 
green mountains rise up around. After leaving it we had 
a beautiful panoramic view of the northern coast. Many 
of the precipices are of the same formation as the Cause- 
way; Fairhead, a promontory of this kind, is grand in the 
extreme. The perpendicular face of fluted rock is about 
three hundred feet in height, and, towering up sublimely 
from the water, seemed almost to overhang our heads. My 
companion compared it to Niagara Falls petrified, and I 
think the simile very striking. It is like a cataract falling 
in huge waves, in some places leaping out from a projecting 
rock, in others descending in an unbroken sheet. 

We passed the Giant's Causeway after dark, and about 
eleven o'clock reached the harbor of Port Hush, where, 
after stumbling up a strange old street in the dark, we 
found a little inn, and soon forgot the Irish coast and every- 
thing else. 

In the morning, when we arose, it was raining, with little 
prospect of fair weather, but, having expected nothing 
better, we set out on foot for the Causeway. The rain, 
however, soon came down in torrents, and we were obliged 
to take shelter in a cabin by the roadside. The whole 
house consisted of one room with bai'e walls and roof and 
earthen floor, while a window of three or four panes sup- 
plied the light. A fire of peat was burning on the hearth, 
and their breakfast, of potatoes alone, stood on the table. 



24 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

The occupants received us with rude but genuine hospi- 
tality, giving us the only seats in the room to sit upon ; ex- 
cept a rickety bedstead that stood in one corner and a 
small table, there was no other furniture in the house. 
The man appeared rather intelligent, and, although he com- 
plained of the hardness of their lot, had no sympathy with 
O'Connell or the Repeal movement. 

We left this miserable hut as soon as it ceased raining, 
and, though there were many cabins along the road, few 
were better than this. At length, after passing the walls 
of an old church in the midst of older tombs, we saw the 
roofless towers of Dunluce Castle on the seashore. It 
stands on an isolated rock, rising perpendicularly two hun- 
dred feet above the sea, and connected with the cliffs of the 
mainland by a narrow arch of masonry. On the summit 
of the cliffs were the remains of the buildings where the 
ancient lords kept their vassals. An old man who takes 
care of it for Lord Antrim, on whose property it is situated, 
showed us the way down to the castle. AVe walked across 
the narrow arch, entered the ruined hall and looked down 
on the roaring sea below. It still rained ; the wind swept 
furiously through the decaying arches of the banqueting- 
hall and waved the long grass on the desolate battlements. 
Far below the sea foamed white on the breakers and sent 
up an unceasing boom. It was the most mournful and 
desolate picture I ever beheld. There were some low dun- 
geons yet entire, and rude stairways where by stooping 
down I could ascend nearly to the top of one of the towers 
and look out on the wild scenery of the coast. 

Going back, I found a way down the cliff* to the mouth 
of a cavern in the rock which extends under the whole 
castle to the sea. Sliding down a heap of sand and stones, 
I stood under an arch eighty feet high ; in front the break- 
ers dashed into the entrance, flinging the spray halfway to 
the roof, while the sound rang up through the arches like 



THE ABODE OF THE GIANTS. 25 

thunder. It seemed to me the haunt of the old Norsemen's 
sea-gods. 

We left the road near Dunluce and walked along the 
smooth beach to the cliffs that surround the Causeway. 
Here we obtained a guide, and descended to one of the 
caves which can be entered from the shore. Opposite the 
entrance a bare rock called Sea Gull Isle rises out of the 
sea like a church-steeple. The roof at first was low, but 
we shortly came to a branch that opened on the sea, where 
the arch was forty-six feet in height. The breakers dashed 
far into the cave, and flocks of sea-birds circled round its 
mouth. The sound of a gun was like a deafening peal 
of thunder, crashing from arch to arch till it rolled out of 
the cavern. 

On the top of the hill a splendid hotel is erected for visi- 
tors to the Causeway ; after passing this we descended to 
the base of the cliffs, which are here upward of four hun- 
dred feet high, and soon began to find in the columnar for- 
mation of the rocks indications of our approach. The 
guide pointed out some columns which appeared to have 
been melted and run together, from which Sir Humphry 
Davy attributed the formation of the Causeway to the 
action of fire. Near this is the Giants' Well, a spring of 
the purest water, the bottom formed by three perfect hexa- 
gons and the sides of regular columns. One of us observ- 
ing that no giant had ever drunk from it, the old man an- 
swered, " Perhaps not, but it was made by a giant — God 
almighty !" 

From the well the Causeway commences — a mass of col- 
umns from triangular to octagonal, lying in compact forms 
and extending into the sea. I was somewhat disappointed 
at first, having supposed the Causeway to be of great 
height, but I found the Giant's Loom, which is the highest 
part of it, to be but about fifty feet from the water. The 
singular appearance of the columns and the many strange 
forms which they assume render it, nevertheless, an object 



26 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

of tlie greatest interest. Walking out on the rocks, we 
came to the Ladies' Chair, the seat, back, sides and foot- 
stool being all regularly formed by the broken columns. 
The guide said that any lady who would take three 
drinks from the Giant's Well, then sit in this chair and 
think of any gentleman for whom she had a preference, 
would be married before a twelvemonth. I asked him if it 
would answer as well for gentlemen, for by a wonderful 
coincidence we had each drank three times at the well. 
He said it would, and thought he was confirming his state- 
ment. 

A cluster of columns about half-way up the cliff is called 
the Giant's Organ from its very striking resemblance to 
that instrument, and a single rock worn by the waves into 
the shape of a rude seat is his chair. A mile or two far- 
ther along the coast two cliffs project from the range, leav- 
ing a vast semicircular space between, which from its re- 
semblance to the old Roman theatres was appropriated for 
that purpose by the giant. Halfway down the crags are 
two or three pinnacles of rock called the Chimneys, and the 
stumps of several others can be seen, which, it is said, w^ere 
shot off by a vessel belonging to the Spanish Armada in 
mistake for the towers of Dunluce Castle. The vessel was 
afterward wrecked in the bay below, which has ever since 
been called Spanish Bay, and in calm weather the wreck 
may be still seen. Many of the columns of the Causeway 
have been carried off and sold as pillars for mantels, and, 
though a notice is put up threatening any one with the rigor 
of the law, depredations are occasionally made. 

Returning, we left the road at Dunluce and took a path 
which led along the summit of the cliffs. The twilight was 
gathering and the wind blew with perfect fury, which, com- 
bined with the black and stormy sky, gave the coast an air 
of extreme wildness. All at once, as we followed the wind- 
ing path, the crags appeared to open before us, disclosing a 
yawning chasm down which a large stream falling in an 



LOST. 



27 



unbroken sheet was lost in the gloom below. Witnessed m 
a calm day, there may perhaps be nothing strikmg about 
it, but coming upon us at once through the gloom of twi- 
light, with the sea thundering below and a scowling sky 
above, it was absolutely startling. 

The path at last wound with many a steep and slippery 
bend down the almost perpendicular crags to the shore at 
the foot of a giant isolated rock having a natural arch 
through it, eighty feet in height. We followed the narrow 
strip of beach, having the bare crags on one side and a line 
of foaming breakers on the other. It soon grew dark ; a 
furious storm came up and swept like a hurricane along the 
shore. I then understood what Home means by " the 
lengthening javelins of the blast," for every drop seemed to 
strike with the force of an arrow, and our clothes were soon 
pierced in every part. 

Then we went up among the sand-hills and lost each 
other in the darkness, when, after stumbling about among 
the gullies for half an hour shouting for my companions, I 
found the road and heard my call answered ; but it hap- 
pened to be two Irishmen, who came up and said, " And is 
it another gintleman ye're callin' for ? We heard some one 
cryin', and didn't know but somebody might be kilt." 

Finally, about eleven o'clock, we all arrived at the inn 
dripping w^ith rain, and before a warm fire concluded the 
adventures of our day in Ireland. 



CHAPTER III. 

BEN LOMOND AND THE HIGHLAND LAKES. 

The steamboat Londonderry called the next day at Port 
Rush, and we left in her for Greenock. We ran down the 
Irish coast past Dunluce Castle and the Causeway; the 



28 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Giant's Organ was very plainly visible, and the winds were 
strong enough to have sounded a storm-song upon it. Far- 
ther on we had a distant view of Carrick-a-Rede, a precipi- 
tous rock, separated by a yawning chasm from the shore, 
frequented by the catchers of sea-birds. A narrow swing- 
ing bridge which is only passable in calm weather crosses 
this chasm, two hundred feet above the water. 

The deck of the steamer was crowded with Irish, and 
certainly gave no favorable impression of the condition of 
the peasantry of Ireland. On many of their countenances 
there was scarcely a mark of intelligence ; they were a most 
brutalized and degraded company of beings. Many of 
them were in a beastly state of intoxication, which, from 
the contents of some of their pockets, was not likely to de- 
crease. As evening drew on two or three began singing, 
and the others collected in groups around them. One of 
them, who sang with great spirit, was loudly applauded, 
and poured forth song after song of the most rude and un- 
refined character. 

We took a deck-passage for three shillings in preference 
to paying twenty for the cabin, and, having secured a va- 
cant place near the chimney, kept it during the whole pas- 
sage. The waves were as rough in the Channel as I ever 
saw them in the Atlantic, and our boat was tossed about 
like a plaything. By keeping still w^e escaped sickness, but 
we could not avoid the sight of the miserable beings who 
filled the deck. Many of th^m spoke in the Irish tongue, 
and our German friend (the student whom I have already 
mentioned) noticed in many of the words a resemblance to 
his mother-tongue. I procured a bowl of soup from the 
steward, but, as I was not able to eat it, I gave it to an old 
man whose hungry look and wistful eyes convinced me it 
would not be lost on him. He swallowed it with ravenous 
avidity, together with a crust of bread, which was all I had 
to give him, and seemed for the time as happy and cheerful 
as if all his earthly wants were satisfied. 



MEMORIES OF HOME. 29 

We passed by the foot of Goat Fell, a lofty mountain on 
the island of Arran, and sped on through the darkness past 
the hills of Bute, till we entered the Clyde. We arrived 
at Greenock at one o'clock at night, and, walking at ran- 
dom through its silent streets, met a policeman, whom we 
asked to show us where we might find lodgings. He took 
my cousin and myself to the house of a poor widow who had 
a spare bed which she let to strangers, and then conducted 
our comrade and the German to another lodging-place. 

An Irish strolling musician who was on board the Dum- 
barton boat commenced playing soon after we left Greenock, 
and, to my surprise, struck at once into "Hail, Columbia!" 
Then he gave " The Exile of Erin " with the most touching 
sweetness ; and I noticed that always after playing any air 
that was desired of him he would invariably return to the 
sad lament, which I never heard executed with more feeling. 
It might have been the mild, soft air of the morning or 
some peculiar mood of mind that influenced me, but I have 
been far less affected by music which would be considered 
immeasurably superior to his. I had been thinking of 
America, and, going up to the old man, I quietly bade him 
play "Home." It thrilled with a painful delight that 
almost brought tears to my eyes. My companion started as 
the sweet melody arose, and turned toward me, his face kin- 
dling with emotion. 

Dumbarton Rock rose higher and higher as we went up 
the Clyde, and before we arrived at the town I hailed the 
dim outline of Ben Lomond, rising far off* among the High- 
lands. The town is at the head of a small inlet a short 
distance from the rock, which was once surrounded by 
water. We went immediately to the castle. The rock is 
nearly five hundred feet high, and from its position and 
great strength as a fortress has been called the Gibraltar 
of Scotland. The top is surrounded with battlements, and 
the armory and barracks stand in a cleft between the two 
peaks. We passed down a green lane, around the rock, 



30 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

and entered the castle on the south side. A soldier con- 
ducted us through a narrow cleft overhung with crags to 
the summit. Here, from the remains of a round building 
called Wallace's Tower, from its having been used as a 
lookout station by that chieftain, we had a beautiful view 
of the whole of Leven Vale to Loch Lomond, Ben Lomond 
and the Highlands, and on the other hand the- Clyde and 
the Isle of Bute. In the soft and still balminess of the 
morning it was a lovely picture. In the armory I lifted the 
sword of Wallace, a two-handed weapon five feet in length. 
We were also shown a Lochaber battle-axe from Bannock- 
burn, and several ancient claymores. 

We lingered long upon the summit before we forsook the 
stern fortress for the sweet vale spread out before us. It 
was indeed a glorious walk from Dumbarton to Loch Lo- 
mond through this enchanting valley. The air was mild 
and clear ; a few light clouds occasionally crossing the sun 
chequered the hills with sun and shade. I have as yet seen 
nothing that in pastoral beauty can compare with its glassy 
winding stream, its mossy old woods and guarding hills and 
the ivy-grown, castellated towers embosomed in its forests 
or standing on the banks of the Leven — the purest of rivers. 
At the little village called Kenton is a monument to Smol- 
lett, but the inhabitants seem to neglect his memory, as one 
of the tablets on the pedestal is broken and half fallen away. 
Farther up the vale a farmer showed us an old mansion in 
the midst of a group of trees on the bank of the Leven 
which he said belonged to Smollett — or Roderick Random, 
as he called him. Two or three old pear trees were still 
standing where the garden had formerly been, under which 
he was accustomed to play in his childhood. 

At the head of Leven Vale we set off in the steamer 
Water- Witch over the crystal waters of Loch Lomond, 
passing Inch Murrin, the deer-park of the duke of Mont- 
rose, and Inch Caillach, 



^p- 



EOB KOY'S CAVE. 



tSTKBU^^^^i 



... c, 

"where g^j pines wave ,^ r\ "^ 

Their shadoAVS o'er Clan Alpiiie^ gi%'^e.['^ ; r^ , ^^'^ 

Under the clear sky and golden light of the" declining sun 
we entered the Highlands, and heard on every side names 
we had learned long ago in the lays of Scott. Here were 
Glen Fruin and Bannochar, Ross Dliu and the pass of 
Beal-ma-na. Farther still we passed Rob Roy's rock, where 
the lake is locked in by lofty mountains. The cone-like 
peak of Ben Lomond rises far above on the right, Ben 
Voirlich stands in front, and the jagged crest of Ben Arthur 
looks over the shoulders of the western hills. A Scotchman 
on board pointed out to us the remarkable places and related 
many interesting legends. Above Inversnaid, where there 
is a beautiful waterfall leaping over the rock and glancing 
out from the overhanging birches, we passed McFarland's 
Island, concerning the origin of which name he gave a his- 
tory. A nephew of one of the old earls of Lennox, the ruins 
of whose castle we saw on Inch Murrin, having murdered 
his uncle's cook in a quarrel, was obliged to flee for his life. 
Returning after many years, he built a castle upon this 
island, which was always after named, on account of his 
exile, Farland. On a precipitous point above Inversnaid 
are two caves in the rock ; one near the water is called Rob 
Roy's, though the guides generally call it Bruce's also, to 
avoid trouble, as the real Bruce's cave is high up the hill. 
It is so called because Bruce hid there one night from the 
pursuit of his enemies. It is related that a mountain-goat 
who used this, probably, for a sleeping-place, entered, trod 
on his mantle and aroused him. Thinking his enemies were 
upon him, he sprang up, and saw the silly animal before 
him. In token of gratitude for this agreeable surprise, 
when he became king a law was passed declaring goats free 
throughout all Scotland — unpunishable for whatever tres- 
pass they might commit ; and the legend further says that, 
not having been repealed, it continues in force at the 
present day. 



32 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

On the opposite shore of the lake is a large rock called 
Bull's Eock, having a door in the side, with a stairway cut 
through the interior to a pulpit on the top, from which the 
pastor at Arroquhar preaches a monthly discourse. The 
Gaelic legend of the rock is that it once stood near the sum- 
mit of the mountain above, and was very nearly balanced 
on the edge of a precipice. Two wild bulls fighting violently 
dashed with great force against the rock, which, being 
thrown from its balance, was tumbled down the side of the 
mountain till it reached its present position. The Scot was 
speaking with great bitterness of the betrayal of Wallace, 
when I asked him if it w^as still considered an insult to 
turn a loaf of bread bottom upward in the presence of a 
Monteith. " Indeed it is, sir," said he. " I have often 
done it myself." 

Until last May travellers were taken no higher up the 
lake than Kob Roy's cave, but, another boat having com- 
menced running, they can now go beyond Loch Lomond, 
two miles up Glen Falloch, to the Inn of Inverarnan, there- 
by visiting some of the finest scenery in that part of the 
Highlands. It was ludicrous, however, to see the steam- 
boat on a river scarcely wider than herself, in a little valley 
hemmed in completely with lofty mountains. She went on, 
however, pushing aside the thickets which lined both banks, 
and I almost began to think she was going to take the shore 
for it, when we came to a place widened out for her to be 
turned around in; here we jumped ashore in a green 
meadow on which the cool mist was beginning to de- 
scend. 

When we arose in the morning, at four o'clock, to return 
with the boat, the sun was already shining upon the west- 
ward hills ; scarcely a cloud was in the sky and the air was 
pure and cool. To our great delight, Ben Lomond was un- 
shrouded, and we were told that a more favorable day for 
the ascent had not occurred for two months. We left the 
boat at Rowardennan, an inn at the southern base of Ben 



BEN LOMOND. 33 

Lomond. After breakfasting on Loch Lomond trout I stole 
out to the shore while my companions were preparing for 
the ascent, and made a hasty sketch of the lake. 

We proposed descending on the northern side and cross- 
ing the Highlands to Loch Katrine ; though it was repre- 
sented as difficult and dangerous by the guide who wished 
to accompany us, we determined to run the risk of being 
enveloped in a cloud on the summit, and so set out alone, 
the path appearing plain before us. We had no difficulty 
in following it up the lesser heights, around the base. It 
wound on over rock and bog, among the heather and broom 
with which the mountain is covered, sometimes running up 
a steep acclivity and then winding zigzag round a rocky 
ascent. The rains two days before had made the bogs damp 
and muddy, but, with this exception, we had little trouble 
for some time. 

Ben Lomond is a doubly-formed mountain. For about 
three-fourths of the way there is a continued ascent, when 
it is suddenly terminated by a large barren plain, from one 
end of which the summit shoots up abruptly, forming at 
the north side a precipice five hundred feet high. As we 
approached the summit of the first part of the mountain 
the way became very steep and toilsome, but the prospect, 
which had before been only on the south side, began to open 
on the east, and we saw suddenly spread out below us the 
vale of Menteith, with "far Loch Ard and Aberfoil" in the 
centre and the huge front of Benvenue filling up the pic- 
ture. Taking courage from this, we hurried on. The 
heather had become stunted and dwarfish, and the ground- 
was covered with short brown grass. The mountain-sheep 
which we saw looking at us from the rock above had worn 
so many paths along the side that we could not tell which 
to take, but pushed on in the direction of- the summit, till, 
thinking it must be near at hand, we found a mile and a 
half of plain before us, with the top of Ben Lomond at the 
farther end. The plain was full of Avet moss crossed in all 

3 



34 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

directions by deep ravines or gullies worn in it by the moun- 
tain-rains, and the wind swept across with a tempest-like 
force. 

I met near the base a young gentleman from Edinburgh 
who had left Kowardennan before us, and we commenced 
ascending together. It was hard work, but neither liked to 
stop ; so we climbed up to the first resting-place, and found 
the path leading along the brink of a precipice. We soon 
attained the summit, and, climbing up a little mound of 
earth and stones, I saw the half of Scotland at a glance. 
The clouds hung just above the mountain-tops, v/hich rose 
all around like the waves of a mighty sea. On every side, 
near and far, stood their misty summits, but Ben Lomond 
was the monarch of them all. Loch Lomond lay unrolled 
under my feet like a beautiful map, and, just opposite. Loch 
Long thrust its head from between the feet of the crowded 
hills to catch a glimpse of the giant. We could see from 
Ben Nevis to Ayr — from Edinburgh to Staffa. Stirling and 
Edinburgh castles would have been visible but that the 
clouds hung low in the valley of the Forth and hid them 
from our sight. 

The view from Ben Lomond is nearly twice as extensive 
as that from the Catskill, being uninterrupted on every side, 
but it wants the glorious forest-scenery, clear blue sky and 
active, rejoicing character of the latter. We stayed about 
two hours upon the summit, taking refuge behind the cairn 
when the wind blew strong. I found the smallest of flow- 
ers under a rock, and brought it away as a memento. In 
the middle of the precipice there is a narrow ravine — or, 
rather, cleft in the rock — to the bottom, from whence the 
mountain slopes regularly but steeply down to the valley. 
At tlie bottom we stopped to awaka the echoes, which were 
repeated four times ; our German companion sang the 
" Hunter's Chorus," which resounded magnificently through 
this Highland hall. We drank frojn the river Fprth, which 
starts from a spring at the foot of the rock, and t|iea com- 



HIGHLAND SCENEKY. 35 

menced descendius". This was also toilsome enoufyli. The 
mouutain was quite wet and covered with loose stones, 
which, dislodged by our feet, went rattling down the side, 
oftentimes to the danger of the foremost ones ; and when 
we had run — or, rather, slid — down the three miles to th« 
bottom, our knees trembled so as scarcely to support us. 

Here, at a cottage on the farm of Coman, we procured 
some oatcakes and milk for dinner from an old Scotch wo- 
man who pointed out the direction of Loch Katrine, six 
miles distant ; there was no road, nor, indeed, a solitary 
dwelling between. The hills were bare of trees, covered 
with scraggy bushes and rough heath, which, in some places 
was so thick we could scarcely drag our feet through. Add- 
ed to this, the ground was covered with a kind of moss 
that retained the moisture like a sponge ; so that our boots 
ere long became thoroughly soaked. Several considerable 
streams were rushing down the side, and many of the wild 
breed of black Highland cattle were grazing around. After 
climbing up and down one or two heights, occasionally 
startling the moorcock and ptarmigan from their heathery 
coverts, we saw the valley of Loch Con, while in the middle 
of the plain on the top of the mountain we had ascended 
vv'as a sheet of water which we took to be Loch Ackill. 
Two or three wild-fowl swimming on its surface were the 
only living things in sight. The peaks around shut it out 
from all view of the world ; a single decayed tree leaned 
over it from a mossy rock which gave the whole scene an 
air of the most desolate wildness. I forget the name of 
the lake, but we learned afterward that the Highlanders 
consider it the abode of the fairies, or " men of peace," and 
that it is still superstitiously shunned by them after night- 
fall. 

From the next mountain w^e saw" Loch Ackill and Loch 
Katrine below, but a wet and weary descent had yet to be 
made. I was about' throwing off my knapsack on a rock 
to take a sketch of lioch Katrine, which appeared very 



36 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

beautiful from this point, when we discerned a cavalcade of 
ponies winding along the path from Inversnaid to the head 
of the lake, and hastened down to take the boat when they 
should arrive. Our haste turned out to be unnecessary, 
however, for they had to wait for their luggage, v/hich was 
long in coming. Two boatmen then offered to take us for 
two shillings and sixpence each, with the privilege of stop- 
ping at Ellen's Isle, the regular fare being two shillings. 
We got in, when, after exchanging a few words in Gaelic, 
one of them called to the travellers — of whom there were a 
number — to come and take passage at two shillings, then at 
one and sixpence, and finally concluded by requesting them 
all to step on board the shilling boat. At length, having 
secured nine at this reduced price, we pushed off; one of 
the passengers took the helm, and the boat glided merrily 
over the clear water. 

It appears there is some opposition among the boatmen 
this summer, which is all the better for travellers. They 
are a bold race, and still preserve many of the characteris- 
tics of the clan from which they sprung. One of ours who 
had a chieftain-like look was a MacGregor related to Rob 
Roy. The fourth descendant in a direct line now inhabits 
the Rob Roy mansion at Glengyle, a valley at the head of 
the lake. A small steamboat was put upon Loch Katrine 
a short time ago, but the boatmen, jealous of this new in- 
vasion of their privilege, one night towed her out to the 
middle of the lake, and there sunk her. 

Near the point of Brianchoil is a very small island with 
a few trees upon it of which the boatman related a story 
that was new to me. He said an eccentric individual many 
years ago built his house upon it, but it was soon beaten 
down by the winds and waves. Having built it up with 
like fortune several times, he at last desisted, saying "bought 
wisdom was the best," since when it had been called the Isl- 
and of Y/isdom. On the shore below the boatman showed 
us his cottage. The whole family were out at the door to 



LOCH KATRINE. 37 • 

witness our progress. He hoisted a flag; and when we 
came opposite, they exchanged shouts in Gaelic. As our 
men resumed their oars again we assisted in giving three 
cheers which made the echoes of Benvenue ring again. 
Some one observed his dog looking after us from a project- 
ing rock, when he called out to him, " Go home, you brute !" 
We asked him why he did not speak Gaelic also to his dog. 

" Very few dogs indeed," said he, " understand Gaelic, 
but they all understand English, and we therefore all use 
English when speaking to our dogs. Indeed, I know some 
persons who know nothing of English that speak it to their 
dogs." 

They then sang, in a rude manner, a Gaelic song. The 
only word I could distinguish was Inch Caillach, the bury- 
ing-place of Clan Alpine. They told us it was the answer 
of a Highland girl to a foreign lord who wished to make 
her his bride. Perhaps, like the American Indian, she 
would not leave the graves of her fathers. 

As we drew near the eastern end of the lake the scenery 
became far more beautiful. The Trosachs opened before 
us. Ben Ledi looked down over the " forehead bare " of 
Ben An, and as we turned a rocky point Ellen's Isle rose 
up in front. It is a beautiful little turquoise in the silver 
setting of Loch Katrine. The northern side alone is access- 
ible, all the others being rocky and perpendicular and 
thickly grown with trees. We rounded the island to the 
little bay, bordered by the silver strand, above which is the 
rock from which Fitz-James wound his horn, and shot under 
an ancient oak which flung its long gray arms over the 
v/ater. We here found a flight of rocky steps leading to 
the top, where stood the bower erected by Lady Willoughby 
D'Eresby to correspond with Scott's description. Two or 
three blackened beams are all that remain of it, having 
been burned down some years ago by the carelessness of a 
traveller. 

The mountains stand all around, like giants, to "sentinel 



38 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

this enchanted land." On leaving the island we saw the 
Goblin's Cave in the side of Benvenue, called by the Gaels 
" Coirnan-Uriskin." Near it is Beal-nam-bo— the "Pass 
of Cattle " — overhung with gray weeping birch trees. 

Here the boatmen stopped to let us hear the fine echo, 
and the names of Rob Roy and Roderick Dhu were sent 
back to us apparently as loud as they were given. The de- 
scription of Scott is wonderfully exact, though the forest 
that feathered o'er the sides of Benvenue has since been 
cut down and sold by the duke of Montrose. 

When we reached the end of the lake, it commenced 
raining, and we hastened on through the pass of Beal-an- 
Duine, scarcely taking time to glance at the scenery, till 
Loch Achray appeared through the trees, and on its banks 
the ivy-grown front of the inn of Ardcheancrochan— with 
its unpronounceable name. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE BURNS FESTIVAL. 



We passed a glorious summer morning on the banks- of 
Loch Katrine. The air was pure, fresh and balmy, and the 
warm sunshine glowed upon forest and lake, upon dark 
crag and purple mountain-top. The lake was a scene in 
Fairyland. Returning over the rugged battle-plain in the 
jaws of the Trosachs, we passed the wild, lonely valley of 
Glenfinlas and Lanric Mead at the head of Loch Venna- 
char, rounding the foot of Ben Ledi to Coilantogle Ford. 
We saw the desolate hills of Uam-var over which the stag 
fled from his lair in Glenartney, and, keeping on through 
Callander, stopped for the night at a little inn on the banks 
of the Teith. The next day we walked through Doune, 
over the lowlands, to Stirling. Crossing Allan Water and 



THE BUKNS FESTIVAL. 39 

the Forth, we climbed Stirling Castle and looked on the 
purple peaks of the Ochill Mountains, the far Grampians 
and the battlefields of Bannockburn and Sheriff Muir. 
Our German comrade, feeling little interest in the memory 
of the poet-ploughman, left in the steamboat for Edinburgh ; 
we mounted an English coach and rode to Falkirk, where 
we took the cars for Glasgow in order to attend the Burns 
festival, on the 6th of August. 

This was a great day for Scotland — the assembling of all 
classes to do honor to the memory of her peasant-bard. 
And right fitting was it, too, that such a meeting should be 
held on the banks of the Doon, the stream of which he has 
sung so sweetly, within sight of the cot where he was born, 
the beautiful monument erected by his countrymen, and, 
more than all, beside " Alio way's witch-haunted wall." One 
would think old Albyn would rise up at the call, and that 
from the wild hunters of the northern hills to the shepherds 
of the Cheviots half her honest yeomanry would be there 
to render gratitude to the memory of the sweet bard who 
was one of them, and who gave their wants and their woes 
such eloquent utterance. 

For months before had the proposition been made to hold 
a meeting on the Doon similar to the Shakespeare festival on 
the Avon, and the 10th of July was first appointed for the 
day, but, owing to the necessity of further time for prepa- 
ration, it was postponed until the 6th of August. The earl 
of Eglintoun was chosen chairman and Professor Wilson 
vice-chairman. In addition to this, all the most eminent 
British authors were invited to attend. A pavilion capable 
of containing two thousand persons had been erected near 
the monument, in a large field, which was thrown open to 
the public. Other preparations were made, and the meet- 
ing was expected to be of the most interesting character. 

When we arose, it was raining, and I feared that the 
weather might dampen somewhat the pleasures of the day, 
as it had done to the celebrated tournament at Eglintoun 



40 VIEWS ^-FOOT. 

Castle. We reached the station in time for the first train, 
and sped in the face of the wind over the plains of Ayr- 
shire, which under such a gloomy sky looked most desolate. 
We ran some distance along the coast, having a view of 
the Hills of Arran, and reached Ayr about nine o'clock. 
We came first to the New Bridge, which had a triumphal 
arch in the middle, and the lines from the " Twa Brigs of 
Ayr:" 

" Will your poor narrow footpath of a street, 
Where twa wheelbarrows tremble when they meet. 
Your ruin'd, formless bulk o* stane and lime, 
Compare wi' bonnie brigs o' modern time ?" 

While on the arch of the " old brig " was the reply : 

" I'll be a brig when ye're a shapeless stane." 

As we advanced into the town the decorations became 
more frequent. The streets were crowded with people car- 
rying banners and wreaths, many of the houses were 
adorned with green boughs and the vessels in the harbor 
hung out all their flags. We saw the Wallace Tower, a 
high Gothic building having in front a statue of Wallace 
leaning on his sword, by Thorn, a native of Ayr, and on 
our way to the green, where the procession was to assemble, 
passed under the triumphal arch thrown across the street 
opposite the inn where Tam O'Shanter caroused so long 
with Souter Johnny. Leaving the companies to form on 
the long meadow bordering the shore, we set out for the 
Doon, three miles distant. Beggars were seated at regular 
distances along the road, uttering the most dolorous whin- 
ings. Both bridges were decorated in the same manner 
with miserable-looking objects keeping up during the whole 
day a continual lamentation. Persons are prohibited from 
begging in England and Scotland, but I suppose, this being 
an extraordinary day, license was given them, as a fp.vor, 
to beg free. I noticed that the women, with their usual 



BUENS'S COTTAGE. 41 

kindness of heart, bestowed nearly all the alms which these 
unfortunate objects received. The night before, as I was 
walking through the streets of Glasgow, a young man of 
the poorer class, very scantily dressed, stepped up to me 
and begged me to listen to him for a moment. He spoke 
hurriedly and agitatedly, begging me, in God's name, to 
give him something, however little. I gave, him what few 
pence I had with me, when he grasped my hand with a 
quick motion, saying, " Sir, you little think how much you 
have done for me." I was about to inquire more particu- 
larly into his situation, but he had disappeared among the 
crowd. 

We passed the " cairn where hunters found the murdered 
bairn," along a pleasant road to the Burns cottage, where 
it was spanned by a magnificent triumphal arch of ever- 
greens and flowers. To the disgrace of Scotland, this neat 
little thatched cot, where Burns passed the first seven years 
of his life, is now occupied by somebody who has stuck up 
a sign over the door, " Licensed to Eetail Spirits, to be 
Drunk on the Premises," and accordingly the rooms were 
crowded full of people, all drinking. There was a fine origi- 
nal portrait of Burns in one room, and in the old-fashioned 
kitchen we saw the recess where he was born. The hostess 
looked toward us as if to inquire what we would drink, and 
I hastened away : there was profanity in the thought. But 
by this time the bell of Old Alloway, which still hangs in 
its accustomed place, though the walls only are left, began 
tolling, and we obeyed the call. The attachment of the 
people for this bell is so great that a short time ago, when 
it was ordered to be removed, the inhabitants rose en m,asse 
and prevented it. The ruin, which is close by the road, 
stands in the middle of the churchyard, and the first thing 
I saw on going in the gate was the tomb of the father of 
Burns. I looked in the old window, but the interior was 
filled with rank weeds and overshadowed by a young tree 
which had grown nearly to the eaves. 



42 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

The crowd was now fast gathering in the large field in 
the midst of which the pavilion was situated. We went 
down by the beautiful monument to Burns to the "Auld 
Brig o' Doon," which was spanned by an arch of ever- 
greens containing a representation of Tam O'Shanter and 
his gray mare pursued by the witches. 

It had been arranged that the procession was to pass 
over the old and new bridges, and from thence by a tempo- 
rary bridge over the hedge into the field. At this latter 
place a stand was erected for the sons of Burns, the officers 
of the day and distinguished guests. Here was a beautiful 
specimen of English exclusiveness. The space adjoining 
the pavilion was fenced around, and admittance denied at 
first to any except those who had tickets for the dinner, 
which — the price being fifteen shillings — entirely prevented 
the humble laborers who more than all should participate 
on the occasion from witnessing the review of the proces- 
sion by the sons of Burns and hearing the eloquent speeches 
of Professor Wilson and Lord Eglintoun. Thus, of the 
many thousands who were in the field, but a few hundred 
who were crowded between the bridge and the railing 
around the pavilion enjoyed the interesting spectacle. By 
good fortune I obtained a stand where I had an excellent 
view of the scene. The sons of Burns were in the middle 
of the platform, with Eglintoun on the right and Wilson 
on their left. Mrs. Begg, sister of the poet, with her 
daughters, stood by the countess of Eglintoun. She was a 
plain, benevolent-looking woman dressed in black and ap- 
pearing still active and vigorous, though she is upward of 
eighty years old. She bears some likeness, especially in the 
expression of her eye, to the poet. Robert Burns, the 
oldest son, appeared to me to have a strong resemblance of 
his father, and it is said he is the only one who remembers 
his face. He has for a long time had an office under gov- 
ernment in London. The others have but lately returned 
from a residence of twenty years in India. Professor 



THE PEOCESSIOK 43 

Wilson appeared to enter into the spirit of the scene better 
than any of them. He shouted and waved his hat, and, 
with his fine broad forehead, his long brown locks, already 
mixed with gray, streaming over his shoulders, and that 
eagle eye glancing over the vast assemblage, seemed a real 
Christopher North, yet full of the fire and vigor of youth 
— " a gray-haired, happy boy." 

About half of the procession consisted of lodges of 
Masons, all of whom turned out on the occasion, as Burns 
was one of the fraternity. I was most interested in several 
companies of shepherds from the hills with their crooks 
and plaids, a body of archers in Lincoln green with a hand- 
some chief at their head, and some Highlanders in their 
most picturesque of costumes. As one of the companies 
which carried a mammoth thistle in a box came near the 
platform Wilson snatched a branch, regardless of its pricks, 
and placed it on his coat. After this pageant — which could 
not have been much less than three miles long — had passed, 
a band was stationed on the platform in the centre of the 
field, around which it formed in a circle, and the whole 
company sang " Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon." 
Just at this time a person dressed to represent Tarn 
O'Shanter, mounted on a gray mare, issued from a field 
near the Burns monument and rode along toward Alloway 
kirk, from which, when he approached it, a whole legion 
of witches sallied out and commenced a hot pursuit. They 
turned back, however, at the keystone of the bridge, the 
witch with the "cutty-sark" holding up in triumph 
the abstracted tail of Maggie. Soon after this the company 
entered the pavilion, and the thousands outside were enter- 
tained as an especial favor by the band of the Eighty- 
seventh regiment, while from the many liquor-booths 
around the field they could enjoy themselves in another 
way. 

We went up to the monument — ^which was of more par- 
ticular interest to us from the relics within — but admission 



44 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

was denied to all. Many persons were collected around 
the gate, some of whom, having come from a great distance, 
were anxious to see it ; but the keeper only said such were 
the orders and he could not disobey them. Among the 
crowd, a grandson of the original Tam O'Shanter was 
ghown to us. He was a raw-looking boy of nineteen or 
twenty, wearing a shepherd's cap and jacket, and muttered 
his disapprobation very decidedly at not being able to visit 
the monument. 

There were one or two showers during the day, and the 
sky all the time was dark and lowering, which was unfavor- 
able for the celebration, but all were glad enough that the 
rain kept aloof till the ceremonies were nearly over. The 
speeches delivered at the dinner — which appeared in the 
papers next morning — are undoubtedly very eloquent. I 
noticed in the remarks of Kobert Burns, in reply to Profes- 
sor Wilson, an acknowledgment which the other speakers 
forgot. He said, " The sons of Burns have grateful hearts, 
and to the last hour of their existence they will remember 
the honor that has been paid them this day by the noble, 
the lovely and the talented of their native land — by men 
of genius and kindred spirit from our sister-land ; and 
lastly they owe their thanks to the inhabitants of the far- 
distant west, a country of a great, free and kindred 
people!" (Loud cheers.) In connection with this sub- 
ject, I saw an anecdote of the poet yesterday which is not 
generally known. During his connection with the excise 
he was one day at a party where the health of Pitt — then 
minister — was proposed as "his master and theirs." He 
immediately turned down his glass and said, " I will give 
you the health of a far greater and better man — George 
Washington !" 

We left the field early and went back through the muddy 
streets of Ayr. The street before the railway-office was 
crowded, and there was so dense a mass of people on the 
steps that it seemed almost impossible to get near. Seeing 



EDINBURGH. 45 

no other chance, I managed to take my stand on the lowest 
steps, where the pressure of the crowd behind and the 
working of the throng on the steps raised me off my feet, 
and in about a quarter of an hour carried me, compressed 
into the smallest possible space, up the steps to the door, 
where the crowd burst in by fits, like water rushing out of 
a bottle. We esteemed ourselves fortunate in getting room 
to stand in an open car, where, after a two hours' ride 
through the wind and pelting rain, we arrived at Glasgow. 



CHAPTER V. 



WALK FROM EDINBURGH OVER THE BORDER, AND AR- 
RIVAL AT LONDON. 

We left Glasgow on the morning after returning from the 
Burns festival, taking passage in the open cars for Edin- 
burgh for six shillings. On leaving the dep6t we plunged 
into the heart of the hill on which Glasgow Cathedral 
stands, and were whisked through darkness and sulphury 
smoke to daylight again. The cars bore us past a spur of 
the Highlands, through a beautiful country where w^omen 
were at work in the fields, to Linlithgow, the birthplace of 
Queen Mary. The majestic ruins of its once-proud palace 
stand on a green meadow behind the town. In another 
hour we were walking through Edinburgh, admiring its 
palace-like edifices and stopping every few minutes to gaze 
up at some lofty monument. "Really," thought I, "we 
call Baltimore the ' Monumental City ' for its two marble 
columns, and here is Edinburgh with one at every street- 
corner !" These, too, not in the midst of glaring red build- 
ings, where they seem to have been accidentally dropped, 
but framed in by lofty granite mansions whose long vistas 
make an appropriate background to the picture. 



46 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

We looked from Calton Hill on Salisbury Crags and over 
the Frith of Forth, then descended to dark old Holyrood, 
where the memory of lovely Mary lingers like a stray sun- 
beam in her cold halls, and the fair boyish face of Rizzio 
looks down from the canvas on the armor of his murderer. 
We threaded the Canongate and climbed to the castle, and 
finally, after a day and a half's sojourn, buckled on our 
knapsacks and marched out of the Northern Athens. In a 
short time the tall spire of Dalkeith appeared above the 
green wood, and we saw to the right, perched on the steep 
banks of the Esk, the picturesque cottage of Hawthornden, 
where Drummond once lived in poetic solitude. We made 
haste to cross the dreary waste of the Muirfoot Hills before 
nightfall, from the highest summit of which we took a last 
view of Edinburgh Castle and the Salisbury crags, then blue 
in the distance. Far to the east were the hills of Lammer- 
muir, and the country of Mid-Lothian lay before us. It 
was all Scott-lsind. The inn of Torsonce, beside the Gala 
Water, was our resting-place for the night. As we ap- 
proached Galashiels the next morning, where the bed of the 
silver Gala is nearly emptied by a number of dingy manu- 
factories, the hills opened, disclosing the sweet vale of the 
Tweed, guarded by the triple peak of the Eildon, at whose 
base lay nestled the village of Melrose. 

I stopped at a bookstore to purchase a view of the Abbey ; 
to my surprise, nearly half the works were by American 
authors. There were Bryant, Longfellow, Channing, Em- 
erson, Dana, Ware, and many others. The bookseller told 
me he had sold more of Ware's Letters than any other book 
in his store, " and also," to use his own words, " an immense 
number of the great Dr. Channing." I have seen English 
editions of Percival, Willis, Whittier and Mrs. Sigourney, 
but Bancroft and Prescott are classed among the " standard 
British historians." 

Crossing the Gala, we ascended a hill on the road to Sel- 
kirk, and, behold ! the Tweed ran below, and opposite, in 



A COLD BATH. 47 

the midst of embowering trees planted by the hand of Scott, 
rose the gray halls of Abbotsford. Yie went down a lane 

to the banks of the swift stream, but, finding no ferry, B 

and I, as it looked very shallow, thought we might save a 

long walk by wading across. F preferred hunting for 

a boat. We two set out together with our knapsacks on 
our backs and our boots in our hands. The current was 
ice-cold and very swift, and, as the bed was covered with 
loose stones, it required the greatest care to stand upright. 
Looking at the bottom through the rajoid water made my 
head so giddy I was forced to stop and shut my eyes. My 
friend, who had firmer nerves, went plunging on to a deeper 
and swifter part, where the strength of the current made 
him stagger very unpleasantly. I called to him to return ; 
the next thing I saw, he gave a plunge and went down to 
the shoulder in the cold flood. While he was struggling, 
with a frightened expression of face, to recover his footing, 
I leaned on my stafi* and laughed till I was on the point of 

falling also. To crown our mortification, F had found 

a ferry a few yards higher up, and was on the opposite 
shore watching us wade back again, my friend with drip- 
ping clothes and boots full of water. I could not forgive 
the pretty Scotch damsel who rowed us across the mischiev- 
ous lurking smile which told that she too had witnessed the 
adventure. 

We found a footpath on the other side which led through 
a young forest to Abbotsford. Rude pieces of sculpture 
taken from Melrose Abbey were scattered around the gate, 
some half buried in the earth and overgrown with weeds. 
The niches in the walls were filled with pieces of sculpture, 
and an antique marble greyhound reposed in the middle of 
the court-yard. We rang the bell in an outer vestibule 
ornamented with several pairs of antlers, when a lady ap- 
peared who from her appearance I have no doubt was Mrs. 
Ormand, the " duenna of Abbotsford," so humorously de- 
scribed by D'Arlincourt in his Three Kingdoms. She 



48 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

ushered us into the entrance-hall, which has a magnificent 
ceiling of carved oak and is lighted by lofty stained win- 
dows. An effigy of a knight in armor stood at either end, 
one holding a huge two-handed sword found on Bosworth 
Field ; the walls were covered with helmets and breastplates 
of the olden time. 

Among the curiosities in the armory are Napoleon's 
pistols, the blunderbuss of Hofer, Rob Roy's purse and gun 
and the offering-box of Queen Mary. Through the folding- 
doors between the dining-room, drawing-room and library 
is a fine vista terminated by a niche in which stands Chan- 
trey's bust of Scott. The ceilings are of carved Scottish 
oak and the doors of American cedar. Adjoining the 
library is his study, the walls of which are covered with 
books ; the doors and windows are double, to render it quiet 
and undisturbed. His books and inkstand are on the table 
and his writing-chair stands before it, as if he had left them 
but a moment before. In a little closet adjoining, where he 
kept his private manuscripts, are the clothes he last wore, 
his cane and belt — to which a hammer and small axe are 
attached — and his sword. A narrow staircase led from the 
study to his sleeping-room above, by which he could come 
down at night and work while his family slept. The silence 
about the place is solemn and breathless as if it waited to 
be broken by his returning footstep. I felt an awe in 
treading these lonely halls like that which impressed me 
before the grave of Washington — a feeling that hallowed 
the spot as if there yet lingered a low vibration of the lyre, 
though the minstrel had departed for ever. 

Plucking a wild rose that grew near the walls, I left Ab- 
botsford, embosomed among the trees, and turned into a 
green lane that led down to Melrose. We went immediately 
to the abbey, in the lower part of the village, near the 
Tweed. As I approached the gate the porteress came out 
and, having scrutinized me rather sharply, asked my name. 
I told her. " Well," she added, " there is a prospect here 



MELKOSE. 49 

for you." Thinking she alluded to the ruin, I replied, 
" Yes, the view is certainly very fine."—" Oh, I don't mean 
that," she replied. " A young gentleman left a prospect 
here for you;" whereupon she brought out a spyglass 
which I recognized as one that our German comrade had 
given to me. He had gone on, and hoped to meet us at 
Jedburgh. 

Melrose is the finest remaining specimen of Gothic archi- 
tecture in Scotland. Some of the sculptured flowers in the 
cloister arches are remarkably beautiful and delicate, and 
the two windows — the south and east oriels — are of a light- 
ness and grace of execution really surprising. We saw the 
tomb of Michael Scott, of King Alexander II., and that of 
the Douglas, marked with a sword. The heart of Bruce is 
supposed to have been buried beneath the high altar. The 
chancel is all open to the sky, and rooks build their nests 
among the wild ivy that climbs over the crumbling arches. 
One of these came tamely down and perched upon the hand 
of our fair guide. By a winding stair in one of the towers 
we mounted to the top of the arch and looked down on the 
grassy floor. I sat on the broken pillar which Scott always 
used for a seat when he visited the abbey, and read the dis- 
interring of the magic book in the " Lay of the Last Min- 
strel." I never comprehended its full beauty till then ; the 
memory of Melrose will give it a thrilling interest in the 
future.* When we left, I was willing to say, with the 

minstrel, 

" Was never scene so sad and fair." 

After seeing the home and favorite haunt of Scott we 
felt a wish to stand by his grave, but we had Ancrum Moor 
to pass before night, and the Tweed was between us and 
Dryburgh Abbey. We did not wish to try another watery 
adventure, and therefore walked on to the village of An- 
crum, where a gatekeeper on the road gave us lodging and 
good fare for a moderate price. Many of this class prac- 
tise this double employment, and the economical traveller 
4 



50 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

who looks more to comfort than luxury will not fail to 
patronize them. 

Next morning we took a footpath over the hills to Jed- 
burgh. From the summit there was a lovely view of the 
valley of the Teviot, with the blue Cheviots in the distance. 
I thought of Pringle's beautiful farewell : 

" Our native land, our native vale, 
A long, a last adieu ! 
Farewell to bonny Teviotdale, 
And Cheviot's mountains blue !" 

The poet was born in the valley below, and one that looks 
upon its beauty cannot wonder how his heart clung to the 
scenes he was leaving. We saw Jedburgh and its majestic 
old abbey, and ascended the valley of the Jed toward the 
Cheviots. The hills, covered with woods of a richness, and 
even gorgeous beauty, of foliage, shut out this lovely glen 
completely from the world. I found myself continually 
coveting the lonely dwellings that were perched on the 
rocky heights or nestled like a fairy pavilion in the lap of 
a grove. These forests formerly furnished the wood for the 
celebrated Jedwood axe used in the Border forays. 

As we continued ascending the prospect behind us widened 
till we reached the summit of the Carter Fell, whence there 
is a view of great extent and beauty. The Eildon Hills, 
though twenty-five miles distant, seemed in the foreground 
of the picture. With a glass Edinburgh Castle might be 
seen over the dim outline of the Muirfoot Hills. After 
crossing the border we passed the scene of the encounter 
between Percy and Douglas, celebrated in Chevy Chase, 
and at the lonely inn of Whitelee, in the valley below, took 
up our quarters for the night. 

Travellers have described the Cheviots as being bleak and 
uninteresting. Although they are bare and brown, to me 
the scenery was of a character of beauty entirely original. 
They are not rugged and broken like the Highlands, but 



NOVEL SIGHTSEEING. 51 

lift their round backs gracefully from the plain, while the 
more distant ranges are clad in many an airy hue. Willis 
quaintly and truly remarks that travellers only tell you the 
picture produced in their own brain by what they see; 
otherwise, the world would be like a pawnbroker's shop 
where each traveller wears the cast-off clothes of others. 
Therefore let no one of a gloomy temperament journeying 
over the Cheviots in dull November arraign me for having 
falsely praised their beauty. 

I was somewhat amused with seeing a splendid carriage 
with footmen and outriders crossing the mountain, the glo- 
rious landscape full in view, containing a richly-dressed lady 
fast asleep. It is no uncommon thing to meet carriages in 
the Highlands in which the occupants are comfortably 
reading while being whirled through the finest scenery. 
And, apropos of this subject, my German friend related to 
me an incident. His brother was travelling on the Rhine, 
and when in the midst of the grandest scenes met a carriage 
containing an English gentleman and lady, both asleep, 
while on the seat behind was stationed an artist sketching 
away with all his might. He asked the latter the reason of 
his industry, when he answered, " Oh, my lord wishes to 
see every night what he has passed during the day, and so 
I sketch as we go along." 

The hills, particularly on the English side, are covered 
with flocks of sheep, and lazy shepherds lay basking in the 
sun among the purple heather with their shaggy black dogs 
beside them. On many of the hills are landmarks by which, 
w^hen the snow has covered all the tracks, they can direct 
their way. After walking many miles through green vah 
leys down which flowed the Red Water — its very name tell- 
ing of the conflicts which had crimsoned its tide — we came 
to the moors, and ten miles of blacker, drearier waste I 
never saw. Before entering them we passed the pretty little 
village of Otterburn, near the scene of the battle. I brought 
away a wild-flower that grew on soil enriched by the bloo^^ 



52 VIEWS A-FOOT« I 

of the Percys. On the village inn is their ancient coat-of- 
arms, a lion rampant on a field of gold, with the motto 
" JE^erance en Dleu." Scarcely a house or a tree enlivened 
the black waste, and even the road was marked on each side 
by high poles to direct the traveller in winter. We were 
glad when at length the green fields came again in sight, 
and the little village of Whelpington Knowes, with its 
old ivy-grown church-tower, welcomed us after the lonely 
walk. 

As one specimen of the intelligence of this part of England 
we saw a board conspicuously posted at the commencement 
of a private road declaring that " all persons travelling this 
way will be persecuted." As it led to a church, however, 
there may have been a design in the expression. 

On the fifth day after leaving Edinburgh w^e reached a 
hill overlooking the valley of the Tyne and the German 
Ocean as sunset was reddening in the west. A cloud of 
coal-smoke made us aware of the vicinity of Newcastle. On 
the summit of the hill a large cattle-fair was being held, 
and crowds of people were gathered in and around a camp 
of gaudily-decorated tents. Fires were kindled here and 
there, and drinking, carousing and horse-racing were flour- 
ishing in full vigor. 

We set out one morning to hunt the Roman wall. Pass- 
ing the fine buildings in the centre of the city and the 
lofty monument to Earl Grey, we w^ent toward the western 
gate, and soon came to the ruins of a building about whose 
origin there could be no doubt. It stood there blackened 
by the rust of ages, a remnant of power passed away. 
There was no mistaking the massive round-tower with its 
projecting ornaments such as are often seen in the ruder 
works of the Romans. On each side a fragment of wall 
remained standing, and there appeared to be a chamber in 
the interior which was choked up with rubbish. There is 
another tower, much higher, in a public square in another 
part of the city, a portion of which is fitted up as a dwell- 



A SCENE AT NEWCASTLE. 53 

ing for the family which takes care of it ; but there was 
such a ridiculous contrast between the ivy-grown top and 
the handsome modern windows and doors of the lower story 
that it did not impress me half as much as the other, with 
all its neglect. These are the farthest limits of that power 
whose mighty works I hope hereafter to view at the seat of 
her grandeur and glory. 

I witnessed a scene at Newcastle that cannot soon be iSir- 
gotten, as it showed more plainly than I had before an 
opportunity of observing the state to which the laboring 
classes of England are reduced. Hearing singing in the 
street under my window one morning, I looked out and saw 
a body of men, apparently of the lower class, but decent 
and sober-looking, who were singing in a rude and plain- 
tive strain some ballad the purport of which I could not 
understand. On making inquiry, I discovered it was part 
of a body of miners who about eighteen weeks before, in 
consequence of not being able to support their families with 
the small pittance allowed them, had struck for higher 
wages. This their employers refused to give them, and sent 
to Wales, where they obtained workmen at the former price. 
The houses these laborers had occupied were all taken from 
them, and for eighteen weeks they had no other means of 
subsistence than the casual charity given them for singing 
the story of their wrongs. It made my blood boil to hear 
those tones wrung from the heart of Poverty by the hand 
of Tyranny. The ignorance permitted by the government 
causes an unheard amount of misery and degradation. We 
heard afterward in the streets another company who played 
on musical instruments. Beneath the proud swell of Eng- 
land's martial airs there sounded to my ears a tone whose 
gathering murmur will make itself heard ere long by the 
dull ears of Power. 

At last, at the appointed time, we found ourselves on 
board the London Merchant in the muddy Tyne waiting 
for the tide to rise high enough to permit us to descend the 



64 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

river. There is great competition among the steamboats 
this summer, and the price of passage to London is reduced 
to five and ten shillings. The second cabin, however, is a 
place of tolerable comfort, and, as the steward had promised 
to keep berths for us, we engaged passage. Following the 
windings of the narrow river, we passed Sunderland and 
Tynemouth, where it expands into the German Ocean. 
The water was barely stirred by a gentle wind, and little 
resembled the stormy sea I expected to find it. We glided 
over the smooth surface, watching the blue line of the dis- 
tant shore till dark, when I went below, expecting to enjoy 
a few hours' oblivion ; but the faithless stev/ard had given 
up the promised berth to anotlier, and it was only with dif- 
ficulty that I secured a seat by the cabin table, where I 
dozed half the night with my head on my arms. It grew 
at last too close and v/earisome ; I went up on deck and lay 
down on the windlass, taking care to balance myself well 
before going to sleep. The earliest light of dawn awoke 
me to a consciousness of damp clothes and bruised limbs. 
AVe were in sight of the low shore the whole day, sometimes 
seeing the dim outline of a church or group of trees over 
the downs or flat beds of sand which border the eastern 
coast of England. About dark the red light of the Nore was 
seen, and we hoped before many hours to be in London. The 
lights of Gravesend were passed, but about ten o'clock, as we 
entered the narrow channel of the Thames, we struck another 
steamboat in the darkness, and were obliged to cast anchor 
for some time. When I v/ent on deck in the gray light of 
morning again, we were gliding up a narrow, muddy river, 
between rows of gloomy buildings, with many vessels lying 
at anchor. It grew lighter, till, as we turned a point, 
right before me lay a vast crowd of vessels, and in the dis- 
tance, above the wilderness of buildings, stood a dim 
gigantic dome in the sky. What a bound my heart gave 
at the sight ! And the tall pillar that stood near it ! I did 
not need a second glance to recognize the Monument. I 



LOJ^DOK 55 

knew the majestic bridge that spanned the river above, but 
on the right bank stood a cluster of massive buildings 
crowned with many a turret that attracted my eye. A 
crowd of old associations pressed bewilderingly upon the 
mind to see standing there, grim and dark with many a 
bloody page of England's history, the Tower of London. 
The morning sky was as yet but faintly obscured by the 
coal-smoke, and in the misty light of coming sunrise all 
objects seemed grander than their wont. In spite of the 
thrilling interest of the scene, I could not help thinking of 
Byron's ludicrous but most expressive description : 

"A mighty mass of brick and smoke and shipping, 

Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye 
Can reach, with here and there a sail just skipping 

In sight, then lost amidst the forestry 
Of masts ; a wilderness of steeples peeping 

On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy ; 
A huge dun cupola like a fool's-cap crown 
On a fool's head, — and there is London town I" 



CHAPTER VI. 

SOME OF THE " SIGHTS " OF LONDON. 

In the course of time we came to anchor in the stream ; 
skiffs from the shore pulled alongside, and after some little 
quarrelling, we were safely deposited in one with a party 
who desired to be landed at the Tower stairs. 

The dark walls frowned above us as we mounted from 
the water and passed into an open square on the outside of 
the moat. The laborers were about commencing work, the 
fashionable day having just closed, but there was still 
noise and bustle enough in the streets, particularly when 
we reached Whitechapel, part of the great ihoroughfare 



56 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

extending through the heart of London to We^tminstei 
Abbey and the Parliament buildings. Farther on, through 
Leadenhall street and Fleet street, what a world I Here 
come the ever-thronging, ever-rolling waves of life, pressing 
and whirling on in their tumultuous career. Here day and 
night pours the stream of human beings, seeming amid the 
roar and din and clatter of the passing vehicles like the 
tide of some great combat. How lonely it makes one to 
stand still and feel that of all the mighty throng which di- 
vides itself around him not a being knows or cares for him ! 
What knows he, too, of the thousands who pass him by ? 
How many who bear the impress of godlike virtue or hide 
beneath a goodly countenance a heart black with crime ! 
How many fiery spirits, all glowing with hope for the yet 
unclouded future, or brooding over a darkened and deso- 
late past in the agony of despair ! There is a sublimity in 
this human Niagara that makes one look on his own race 
with something of awe. 

We walked down the Thames, through the narrow streets 
of Wapping. Over the mouth of the tunnel is a large cir- 
cular building with a dome to light the entrance below. 
Paying the fee of a penny, we descended by a winding 
staircase to the bottom, which is seventy-three feet below 
the surface. The carriage-way, still unfinished, will extend 
farther into the city. From the bottom the view of the 
two arches of the tunnel, brilliantly lighted with gas, is 
very fine ; it has a much less heavy and gloomy appearance 
than I expected. As we walked along under the bed of 
the river two or three eirls at one end beoran plaving: on the 
French horn and bugle, and the echoes, when not too deep 
to confuse the melody, were remarkably beautiful. Between 
the arches of the division separating the two passages are 
shops occupied by venders of fancy articles, views of the 
tunnel, engravings, etc. In the middle is a small printing 
press where a sheet containing a description of the whole 
work is printed for those who desire it. As I was no 



ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. 67 

stranger to this art, I requested the boy to let me print one 
myself, but he had such a bad roller I did not succeed in 
getting a good impression. The air within is somewhat 
damp, but fresh and agreeably cool, and one can scarcely 
realize, in walking along the light passage, that a river is 
rolling above his head. The immense solidity and com- 
pactness of the structure precludes the danger of accident, 
each of the sides being arched outward, so that the heaviest 
pressure only strengthens the whole. It will long remain 
a noble monument of human daring and ingenuity. 

St. Paul's is on a scale of grandeur excelling everything 
I have yet seen. The dome seems to stand in the sky as 
you look up to it ; the distance from which you view it, 
combined with the atmosphere of London, gives it a dim, 
shadowy appearance that perfectly startles one with its im- 
mensity. The roof from which the dome springs is itself 
as high as the spires of most other churches ; blackened for 
two hundred years with the coal-smoke of London, it stands 
like a relic of the giant architecture of the early world. 
The interior is what one would expect to behold after view- 
ing the outside. A maze of grand arches on every side 
encompasses the dome, which you gaze up at as at the sky, 
and from every pillar and wall look down the marble forms 
of the dead. There is scarcely a vacant niche left in all 
this mighty hall, so many are the statues that meet one on 
every side. With the exceptions of John Howard, Sir 
Astley Cooper and Wren, whose monument is the church 
itself, they are all to military men. I thought if they had 
all been removed except Howard's it would better have 
suited such a temple and the great soul it commemorated. 

I never was more impressed with the grandeur of human 
invention than when ascending the dome. I could with 
difficulty conceive the means by which such a mighty edi- 
fice had been lifted into the air. That small frame of Sir 
Christopher Wren must have contained a mind capable of 
vast conceptions. The dome is like the summit of a moun- 



58 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

tain, so wide is the prospect and so great the pile upon 
which you stand. London lay beneath us like an ant-hill 
with the black insects swarming to and fro in their long 
avenues, the sound of their employments coming up like the 
roar of the sea. A cloud of coal-smoke hung over it, 
through which many a pointed spire was thrust up ; some- 
times the wind would blow it aside for a moment, and the 
thousands of red roofs would shine out clearer. The 
bridged Thames, covered v/ith craft of all sizes, wound be- 
neath us like a ringed and spotted serpent. The scene was 
like an immense circular picture in the blue frame of the 
hills around. 

Continuing our way up Fleet street — which, notwith- 
standing the gayety of its shoj^s and its constant bustle, has 
an antique appearance — we came to the Temple Bar, the 
western boundary of the ancient city. In the inside of the 
middle arch the old gates are still standing. From this 
point we entered the new portion of the city, which wore 
an air of increasing splendor as we adv-anced. The appear- 
ance of the Strand and Trafalgar Square is truly magnifi- 
cent. Fancy every house in Broadway a store, all built 
of light granite, the Park stripped of all its trees and 
paved with granite and a lofty column in the centre, double 
the crowd and the tumult of business, and you will have 
some idea of the view. 

It was a relief to get into St. James's Park among the 
trees and flowers again. Here beautiful winding walks led 
around little lakes in which were hundreds of water-fowl 
swimming. Groups of merry children were sporting on 
the green lawn, enjoying their privilege of roaming every- 
where at will, while the older bipeds were confined to the 
regular walks. At the western end stood Buckingham 
Palace, looking over the trees toward St. Paul's ; through 
the grove on the eminence above, the towers of St. James's 
could be seen. But there was a dim building with two 
lofty square towers decorated with a profusion of pointed 



A GALAXY OF GENIUS. 59 

Gothic pinnacles that I looked at with more interest than 
these appendages of royalty. I could not linger long in 
its vicinity, but, going back again by the Horse Guards, 
took the road to Westminster Abbey. 

We approached by the general entrance, Poet's Corner. 
I hardly stopped to look at the elaborate exterior of Henry 
Vllth's Chapel, but passed on to the door. On entering, 
the first thing that met my eyes were the words, " Oh rare 
Ben Jonson," under his bust. Near by stood the monu- 
ments of Spenser and Gay, and a few paces farther looked 
down the sublime countenance of Milton. Never was a 
spot so full of intense interest. The light was just dim 
enough to give it a solemn, religious appearance, making 
the marble forms of poets and philosophers so shadowy and 
impressive that I felt as if standing in their living presence. 
Every step called up some mind linked with the associations 
of my childhood. There was the gentle feminine counte- 
nance of Thomson and the majestic head of Dryden ; Ad- 
dison with his classic features, and Gray, full of the fire of 
lofty thought. In another chamber I paused long before 
the ashes of Shakespeare, and while looking at the monu- 
ment of Garrick started to find that I stood upon his grave. 
What a glorious galaxy of genius is here collected ! what 
a constellation of stars whose light is immortal ! The mind 
is completely fettered by their spirit. Everything is for- 
gotten but the mighty dead who still " rule us from their 
urns." 

The chapel of Henry YIL, which we next entered, is one 
of the most elaborate specimens of Gothic workmanship in 
the world. If the first idea of the Gothic arch sprung from 
observing the forms of trees, this chapel must resemble the 
first conceptions of that order, for the fluted columns rise 
up like tall trees, branching out at the top into spreading 
capitals covered with leaves and supporting arches of the 
ceiling resembling a leafy roof. 

The side-chapels are filled with tombs of knightly fami- 



60 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

lies, the husband and wife lying on their backs on the 
tombs with their hands clasped, while their children, about 
the size of dolls, are kneeling around. Numberless are the 
barons and earls and dukes whose grim effigies stare from 
their tombs. In opposite chapels are the tombs of Mary 
and Elizabeth, and near the former that of Darnley. After 
having visited many of the scenes of her life, it was with 
no ordinary emotion that I stood by the sepulchre of Mary. 
How differently one looks upon it and upon that of the 
proud Elizabeth! 

We descended to the chapel of Edward the Confessor, 
within the splendid shrine of which repose his ashes. Here 
we were shown the chair on which the English monarchs 
have been crowned for several hundred years. Under the 
seat is the stone, brought from the abbey of Scone, whereon 
the kings of Scotland were crowned. The chair is of oak, 
carved and hacked over with names, and on the bottom 
some one has recorded his name with the fact that he once 
slept in it. We sat down and rested in it without cere- 
mony. Passing along an aisle leading to the grand hall, 
we saw the tomb of Aymer de Valence, a knight of the 
Crusades. Near here is the hall where the knights of the 
order of Bath met. Over each seat their dusty banners are 
still hanging, each with its crest, and their armor is rusting 
upon the wall. It seemed like a banqueting-hall of the 
olden time where the knights had left their seats for a mo- 
ment vacant. Entering the nave, we were lost in the wil- 
derness of sculpture. Here stood the forms of Pitt, Fox, 
Burke, Sheridan and Watts, from the chisels of Chantrey, 
Bacon and Westmacott. Farther down were Sir Isaac 
Newton and Sir Godfrey Kneller; opposite, Andre and 
Paoli the Italian, who died here in exile. How can I con- 
vey an idea of the scene ? Notwithstanding all the descrip- 
tions I had read, I was totally unprepared for the reality, 
nor could I have anticipated the hushed and breathless in- 
terest with which I paced the dim aisles, gazing, at every 



THE NATIONAL GALLEEY. 61 

step, on the last resting-place of some great and familiar 
name. A place so sacred to all who inherit the English 
tongue is worthy of a special pilgrimage across the deep. 
To those who are unable to visit it, a description may be 
interesting ; but so far does it fall short of the scene itself 
that if I thought it would induce a few of our wealthy 
idlers, or even those who, like myself, must travel with toil 
and privation, to come hither, I would write till the pen 
dropped from my hand. 

More than twenty grand halls of the British Museum are 
devoted to antiquities, and include the Elgin Marbles — the 
spoils of the Parthenon — the Fellows Marbles, brought 
from the ancient city of Xanthus, and Sir William Hamil- 
ton's collection of Italian antiquities. It was painful to see 
the friezes of the Parthenon, broken and defaced as they 
are, in such a place. Rather let them moulder to dust on 
the ruin from which they were torn, shining through the 
blue veil of the Grecian atmosphere from the summit of 
the Acropolis. 

The National Gallery, on Trafalgar Square, is open four 
days in the week to the public. The " Raising of Lazarus," 
by Sebastian del Piombo, is considered the gem of the col- 
lection, but my unschooled eyes could not view it as such. 
It is also remarkable for having been transferred from wood 
to canvas without injury. This delicate operation was ac- 
complished by gluing the panel on which it was painted flat 
on a smooth table and planing the wood gradually away 
till the coat of hardened paint alone remained. A proper 
canvas was then prepared, covered with a strong cement and 
laid on the back of the picture, which adhered firmly to it. 
The owner's nerves must have had a severe trial if he had 
courage to watch the operation. I was enraptured with 
Murillo's pictures of St. John and the Holy Family. St. 
John is represented as a boy in the woods, fondling a lamb. 
It is a glorious head. The dark curls cluster around his 
fair brow, and his -eyes seem already glowing with the fire 



62 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

of future inspiration. There is an innocence, a childish 
sweetness of expression, in the countenance, which makes 
one love to gaze upon it. Both of these paintings were 
constantly surrounded by ladies, and they certainly de- 
served the preference. In the rooms devoted to English 
artists there are many of the finest works of West, Rey- 
nolds, Hogarth and Wilkie. 

We spent a day in visiting the lungs of London, as the 
two grand parks have been called. From the Strand 
through the Regent Circus, the centre of the fashionable 
part of the city, we passed to Piccadilly, calling on our way 
to see our old friends the lowas. They were at the Egyp- 
tian Hall, in connection with Catlin's Indian collection. 
The old braves knew us at once, particularly Blister Feet, 
who used often to walk a line on deck with me at sea. Far- 
ther along Piccadilly is Wellington's mansion of Apsley 
House, and nearly opposite it, in the corner of Hyde Park, 
stands the colossal statue of Achilles cast from cannon 
taken at Salamanca and Vittoria. The park resembles an 
open common, Avith here and there a groYe of trees, inter- 
sected by carriage-roads. It is like getting into the coun- 
try again to be out on its broad, green field, with the city 
seen dimly around through the smoky atmosphere. We 
walked for a mile or two along the shad)! avenues and over 
the lawns, having a view of the princely terraces and gar- 
dens on one hand and the gentle outline of Primrose Hill 
on the other. Regent's Park itself covers a space of nearly 
four hundred acres. 

But if London is unsurpassed in splendor, it has also its 
corresponding share of crime. Notwithstanding the large 
and efiicient body of police, who do much toward the con- 
trol of vice, one sees enough of degradation and brutality 
in a short time to make his heart sick. Even the public 
thoroughfares are thronged at night with characters of the 
lowest description, and it is not expedient to go through 
many of the narrow by-haunts of the old city in the day- 



A CHEAP TOUK. 63 

time. The police, who are ever on the watch, immediately 
seize and carry off any offender, but from the statements 
of persons who have had an opportunity of observing, as 
well as from my own slight experience, I am convinced that 
there is an untold amount of misery and crime. London 
is one of the wonders of the world, but there is reason to 
believe it is one of the curses of the world also, though, in 
fact, nothing but an active and unceasing philanthropy can 
prevent any city from becoming so. 

Aug. 22. — I have now been six days in London, and by 
making good use of my feet and eyes have managed to be- 
come familiar with almost every object of interest within its 
precincts. Having a plan mapped out for the day, I started 
from my humble lodgings at the Aldgate CofFee-House, 
where I slept off fatigue for a shilling a night, and walked 
up Cheapside or down Whitechapel, as the case might be, 
hunting out my way to churches, halls and theatres. In 
this way, at a trifling expense, I have perhaps seen as much 
as many who spend here double the time and ten times the 
money. Our whole tour from Liverpool hither, by way of 
Ireland and Scotland, cost us but twenty-five dollars each, 
although, except in one or two cases, we denied ourselves 
no necessary comfort. This shows that the glorious priv- 
ilege of looking on the scenes of the Old World need not be 
confined to people of wealth and leisure. It may be enjoyed 
by all who can occasionally forego a little bodily comfort 
for the sake of mental and spiritual gain. 

We leave this afternoon for Dover. To-morrow I shall 
dine in Belgium. 



64 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

CHAPTER VII. 

FLIGHT THROUGH BELGIUM. 

Bruges. — On the Continent at last! How strangely 
look the century-old towers, antique monuments and quaint, 
narrow streets of the Flemish cities ! It is an agreeable, 
and yet a painful, sense of novelty to stand for the first time 
in the midst of a people whose language and manners are 
different from one's own. The old buildings around, linked 
with many a stirring association of past history, gratify the 
glowing anticipations with which one has looked forward to 
seeing them, and the fancy is busy at work reconciling the 
real scene with the ideal ; but the want of a communication 
with the living world about walls one up with a sense of 
loneliness he could not before have conceived. I envy the 
children in the streets of Bruges their childish language. 

Yesterday afternoon we came from London, through the 
green wooded lawns and vales of England to Dover, which 
we reached at sunset, passing by a long tunnel through the 
lofty Shakespeare Cliff. We had barely time before it grew 
dark to ascend the cliff. The glorious coast view looked 
still wilder in the gathering twilight, which soon hid from 
our sight the dim hills of France. On the cliff opposite 
frowned the massive battlements of the castle, guarding the 
town, which lay in a nook of the rocks below. 

As the Ostend boat was to leave at four in the morning, 
my cousin aroused us at three, and we felt our way down 
stairs in the dark. But the landlord was reluctant to part 
with us ; we stamped and shouted and rang bells till the 
whole house was in an uproar, for the door w^as double- 
locked and the steamboat bell began to sound. At last he 
could stand it no longer ; we gave a quick utterance to our 
overflowing wrath, and rushed down to the boat but a 
second or two before it left. 



OSTEND. 65 

The water of the Channel was smooth as glass, and as the 
sun rose the far chalky clifFs gleamed along the horizon, a 
belt of fire. I waved a good-bye to Old England, and then 
turned to see the spires of Dunkirk, which were visible in 
the distance before us. On the low Belgian coast we could 
see trees and steeples, resembling a mirage over the level 
surface of the sea ; at length, about ten o'clock, the square 
tower of Ostend came in sight. The boat passed into a long 
muddy basin in which many unwieldy, red-sailed Dutch 
craft were lying, and stopped beside a high pier. Here, 
amid the confusion of three languages, an officer came on 
board and took charge of our passports and luggage. As 
we could not get the former for two or three hours, we did 
not hurry the passing of the latter, and w^ent on shore quite 
unincumbered for a stroll about the city, disregarding the 
cries of the hackney-coachmen on the pier, " Hotel d' Angle- 
terre!" " Hotel des Bains !" and another who called out in 
English, " I recommend you to the Royal Hotel, sir !" 

There is little to be seen in Ostend. We wandered 
through long rows of plain yellow houses trying to read the 
French and Low Dutch signs, and at last came out on the 
Y/all near the sea. A soldier motioned us back as we at- 
tempted to ascend it, and, muttering some unintelligible 
words, pointed to a narrow street near. Following this out 
of curiosity, we crossed the moat, and found ourselves on 
the great bathing-beach. To get out of the hands of the 
servants who immediately surrounded us, we jumped into 
one of the little wagons and were driven out into the surf. 

To be certain of fulfilling the railroad regulations, we 
took our seats quarter of an hour before the time. The 
dark walls of Ostend soon vanished, and we were whirled 
rapidly over a country perfectly level, but highly fertile and 
well cultivated. Occasionally there v/as a ditch or row of 
trees, but otherwise there was no division betw^een the fields, 
and the plain stretched unbroken away into the distance. 
The twenty miles to B.ruges we made in forty minutes. The 

5 



QQ VIEWS A-FOOT. 

streets of this antique city are narrow and crooked, and the 
pointed, ornamented gables of the houses produce a novel 
impression on one who has been accustomed to the green 
American forests. Then there was the endless sound of 
wooden shoes clattering over the rough pavements, and 
people talking in that most unmusical of all languages, Low 
Dutch. Walking at random through the streets, we came 
by chance upon the cathedral of Notre Dame. I shall long 
remember my first impression of the scene within. The 
lofty Gothic ceiling arched far above my head and through 
the stained windows the light came but dimly ; it was all 
still, solemn and religious. A few worshippers were kneel- 
ing in silence before some of the shrines, and the echo of 
my tread seemed like a profaning sound. On every side 
were pictures, saints and gilded shrines. A few steps re- 
moved one from the bustle and din of the crowd to the still- 
ness and solemnity of the holy retreat. 

We learned from the guide, whom we had engaged be- 
cause he spoke a few words of English, that there was still 
a treckshuyt line on the canals, and that one boat leaves to- 
viight at ten o'clock for Ghent. Wishing to try this old 
Dutch method of travelling, he took us about half a mile 
along the Ghent road to the canal, where a moderate-sized 
boat was lying. Our baggage deposited in the plainly-fur- 
nished cabin, I ran back to Bruges, although it was begin- 
ning to grow dark, to get a sight of the belfry ; for Longfel- 
low's lines had been running through my head all day : 

" In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown ; 
Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the 
town." 

And, having found the square brown tower in one corner 
of the open market-square, we waited to hear the chimes, 
which are said to be the finest in Europe. They rang Out 
at last with a clear silvery tone most beautifully musical in- 
deed. We then returned to the boat in the twilight. We 



EAILEOAD-TRA YELLING. 67 

were to leave in about an hour, according to the arrange 
ments, but as yet there was no sound to be heard, and we 
were the only tenants. However, trusting to Dutch regu- 
larity, we went to sleep in the full confidence of awakening 
in Ghent. 

I awoke once in the night and saw the dark branches of 
trees passing before the window, but there was no percepti- 
ble sound nor motion ; the boat glided along like a dream, 
and we were awakened next morning by its striking against 
the pier at Ghent. After payiiig three francs for the whole 
night-journey, the captain gave us a guide to the railroad- 
station, and, as we had nearly an hour before the train left, 
I went to see the cathedral of St. Bavon. After leaving 
Ghent the road passes through a beautiful country culti- 
vated like a garden. The Dutch passion for flowers is dis- 
played in the gardens around the cottages; even every va- 
cant foot of ground along the railway is planted with roses 
and dahlias. At Ghent, the morning being fair, we took 
seats in the open cars. About noon it commenced raining, 
and our situation was soon anything but comfortable. My 
cousin had, fortunately, a waterproof Indian blanket with 
him which he had purchased in the " Far West," and by 
wrapping this around all three of us we kept partly dry. 1 
was much amused at the plight of a party of young Eng- 
lishmen,who were in the same car ; one of them held a lit- 
tle parasol which just covered his hat, and sent the water 
in streams down on his back and shoulders. 

"We had a misty view of Liege through the torrents of 
rain, and then dashed away into the wild mountain-scenery 
of the Meuse. Steep, rocky hills covered with pine and 
crowned with ruined towers hemmed in the winding and 
swollen river, and the wet, cloudy sky seemed to rest like a 
canopy on their summits. Instead of threading their mazy 
defiles, we plunged directly into the mountain's heart, flew 
over the narrow valley on lofty and light-sprung arches, 
and went again into the darkness. At Verviers our bag- 



G8 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

gage was weighed, examined and transferred, with ourselves, 
to a Prussian train. There was a great deal of disputing 
on the occasion. A lady who had a dog in a large willow 
basket was not allowed to retain it, nor would they take it 
as baggage. The matter was finally compromised by their 
sending the basket, obliging her to carry the dog — which was 
none of the smallest — in her arms. The next station bore 
the sign of the black eagle, and here our passports were 
obliged to be given up. 

Advancing through long ranges of wooded hills, we saw, 
at length, in the dull twilight of a rainy day, the old kingly 
city of Aix-la-Chapelle on a plain below us. After a scene 
at the custom-house, where our baggage was reclaimed with 
tickets given at Verviers, we drove to the Hotel du Khin, 
and while warming our shivering limbs and drying our 
damp garments felt tempted to exclaim with the old Italian 
author, " O holy and miraculous tavern !" 

The cathedral, with its lofty Gothic tower, was built by 
the emperor Otho in the tenth century. It seems at present 
to be undergoing repairs, for a large scaffold shut out the 
dome. The long hall was dim with incense-smoke as we 
entered, and the organ sounded through the high arches 
with an efiect that startled me. The windows glowed with 
the forms of kings and saints, and the dusty and moulder- 
ing shrines which rose around were colored with the light 
that came through. The music pealed out like a triumphal 
march, sinking at times into a mournful strain, as if it cele- 
brated and lamented the heroes who slept below. In the 
stone pavement, nearly under my feet, was a large square 
marble slab with the words " Carolo Magxo." It was 
like a dream to stand there on the tomb of the mighty war- 
rior, with the lofty arches of the cathedral above filled with 
the sound of the divine anthem. I mused above his ashes 
till the music ceased, and then left the cathedral, that noth- 
ing might break the romantic spell associated with that 
crumbling pile and the dead it covered. I have always 



COLOGNE CATHEDEAL. 69 

revered the memory of Charlemagne. He lived in a stern 
age, but he was in mind and heart a man, and, like Napo- 
leon, who placed the iron crown which had lain with him 
centuries in the tomb upon his own brow, he had an Alpine 
grandeur of mind which the world was forced to acknowl- 
edge. 

At noon we took the ehars-a-banc, or second-class car- 
riages, for fear of rain, and continued our journey over a 
plain dotted with villages and old chateaux. Two or three 
miles from Cologne we saw the spires of the diiFerent 
churches, conspicuous among which were the unfinished 
towers of the cathedral, with the enormous crane standing 
as it did when they left off building, two hundred years 
ago or more. On arriving we drove to the Bonn railway, 
where, finding the last train did not leave for four hours, 
we left our baggage and set out for the cathedral. Of all 
Gothic buildings, the plan of this is certainly the most stu- 
pendous ; even ruin as it is, it cannot fail to excite surprise 
and admiration. The king of Prussia has undertaken to 
complete j^i according to the original plan, which was lately 
found in the possession of a poor man, of whom it was pur- 
chased for forty thousand florins, but he has not yet finished 
repairing what is already built. The legend concerning 
this plan may not be known to every one. It is related of 
the inventor of it that, in despair of finding any sufficiently 
great, he was walking one day by the river, sketching with 
his stick upon the sand, when he finally hit upon one which 
pleased him so much that he exclaimed, " This shall be the 
plan !" — " I will show you a better one than that," said a 
voice, suddenly, behind him, and a certain black gentleman 
who figures in all German legends stood by him and pulled 
from his pocket a roll containing the present plan of the 
cathedral. The architect, amazed at its grandeur, asked an 
explanation of every part. As he knew his soul was to be 
the price of it, he occupied himself, while the devil was ex- 
plaining, in committing its proportions carefully to memory. 



70 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Having done this, lie remarked that it did not please hira 
and he would not take it. The devil, seeing through the 
cheat, exclaimed in his rage, " You may build your cathe- 
dral according to this plan, but you shall never finish it !" 
This prediction seems likely to be verified, for, though it 
was commenced in 1248 and built fi^r two hundred and fifty 
years, only the choir and nave, and one tower to half its 
original height, are finished. 

We visited the chapel of the Eleven Thousand Virgins, 
the walls of which are full of curious grated cells contain- 
ing their bones, and then threaded the narrow streets of 
Cologne, which are quite dirty enough to justify Coleridge's 
lines: 

*' The river Ehine, it is well known, 
Doth wash the city of Cologne ; 
But tell me, nymphs, what power divine 
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine ?" 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE EHINE TO HEIDELBERG. 

Heidelberg, August 30. 

Here at last, and a most glorious place it is. This is our 
first morning in our new rooms, and the sun streams warmly 
in the eastern windows as I write, while the old castle rises 
through the blue vapor on the side of the Kaiser-stuhl. 
The Neckar rushes on below, and the Odenwald, before me, 
rejoices with its vineyards in the morning light. The bells 
of the old chapel near us are sounding most musically, and 
a confused sound of voices and the rolling of vehicles comes 
up from the street. It is a place to live in! 

I must go back five or six days and take up the ^^ecord 
of our journeyings at Bonn. We had been looking over 



ON THE EHINE. 71 

Murray's infallible Sandhooh, and observed that he recom- 
mended the Star Hotel in that city as " the most moderate in 
its prices of any on the Rhine ;" so when the train from 
Cologne arrived and we were surrounded, in the darkness 
and confusion, by porters and valets, I sung out, " Hotel de 
I'Etoile d'Or !" Our baggage and ourselves were transferred 
to a stylish omnibus, and in five minutes we stopped under 
a brilliantly-lighted archway, where Mr. Joseph Schmidt 
received us with the usual number of smiles and bows be- 
stowed upon untitled guests. We were furnished with neat 
rooms in the summit of the house, and then descended to 
the salle-a-manger. I found a folded note by my plate, 
which I opened ; it contained an engraving of the front of 
the hotel, a plan of the city and catalogue of its lions, to- 
gether with a list of the titled personages who have from 
time to time honored the Golden Star with their custom. 
Among this number were " their Royal Highnesses the duke 
and duchess of Cambridge, Prince Albert," etc. Had it not 
been for fatigue, I should have spent an uneasy night think- 
ing of the heavy bill which was to be presented on the 
morrow. We escaped, however, for seven francs apiece, 
three of which were undoubtedly for the honor of breathing 
an aristocratic atmosphere. 

I was glad when we were really in motion on the swift 
Rhine the next morning, and nearing the chain of moun- 
tains that rose up before us. We passed Godesberg on the 
right, while on our left was the group of the seven moun- 
tains which extend back from the Drachenfels to the Wolk- 
enberg, or " Castle of the Clouds." Here we begin to en- 
ter the enchanted land. The Rhine sweeps around the foot 
of the Drachenfels, while, opposite, the precipitous rock of 
Rolandseck, crowned with the castle of the faithful knight, 
looks down upon the beautiful island of Nonnenwerth, the 
white walls of the convent still gleaming through the trees 
as thev did when the warrior's weary eyes looked upon them 
for tfee last time. I shall never forget the enthusiasm with 



72 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

which I saw this scene in the bright, warm sunlight, the 
rough crags softened in the haze which filled the atmo- 
sphere, and the wild mountains springing up in the midst of 
vineyards and crowned with crumbling towers filled with 
the memories of a thousand years. 

After passing Andernach we saw in the distance the high^ 
lands of the middle Ehine — which rise above Coblentz, 
guarding the entrance to its wild scenery — and the moun- 
tains of the Moselle. They parted as we approached ; from 
the foot shot up the spires of Coblentz, and the battlements 
of Ehrenbreitstein, crowning the mountain opposite, grew 
larger and broader. The air was slightly hazy, and the 
clouds seemed laboring among the distant mountains to 
raise a storm. As we came opposite the mouth of the Mo- 
selle and under the shadow of the mighty fortress, I gazed 
up with awe at its massive walls. Apart from its magni- 
tude and almost impregnable situation on a perpendicular 
rock, it is filled with the recollections of history and hal- 
lowed by the voice of poetry. The scene went past like a 
panorama, the bridge of boats opened, the city glided be- 
hind us, and we entered the highlands again. 

Above Coblentz almost every mountain has a ruin and a 
legend. One feels everywhere the spirit of the past, and 
its stirring recollections come back upon the mind with ir- 
resistible force. I sat upon the deck the whole afternoon 
as mountains, towns and castles passed by on either side, 
watching them with a feeling of the most enthusiastic en- 
joyment. Every place was familiar to me in memory, and 
they seemed like friends I had long communed with in 
spirit and now met face to face. The English tourists with 
whom the deck was covered seemed interested too, but in a 
different manner. With Murray's Handbook open in their 
hands, they sat and read about the very towns and towers 
they were passing, scarcely lifting their eyes to the real 
scenes, except now and then to observe that it was " very 
nice." «. 



Q 



THE HAUNT OF THE LUELEI. 13 

As we passed Boppart, I sought oat the inn of the " Star," 
mentioned in Hyperion ; there was a maiden sitting on the 
steps who might have been Paul Flemming's fair boat- 
woman. The clouds which had here gathered among the 
hills now came over the river, and the rain cleared the deck 
of its crowd of admiring tourists. As we were approach- 
ing Lurlei Berg, I did not go below, and so enjoyed some 
^ of the finest scenery on the Ehine alone. The mountains 
approach each other at this point, and the Lurlei rock rises 
up for six hundred feet from the water. This is the haunt 
of the water-nymph Lurlei, whose song charmed the ear of 
the boatman while his barque was dashed to pieces on the 
rocks below. It is also celebrated for its remarkable echo. 
As we passed between the rocks, a guard, who has a little 
house built on the roadside, blew a flourish on his bugle, 
which was instantly answered by a blast from the rocky 
battlements of Lurlei. The German students have a witty 
trick with this echo: they call out, "Who is the burgo- 
master of Oberwesel ?" a town just above. The echo an- 
swers with the last syllable, " Esel!" which is the German 
for " ass." 

The sun came out of the cloud as we passed Oberwesel, 
with its tall round tower, and the light shining through the 
ruined arches of Schonberg castle made broad bars of light 
and shade in the still misty air. A rainbow sprang up out 
of the Ehine and lay brightly on the mountain-side, color- 
ing vineyard and crag in the most singular beauty, while 
its second reflection faintly arched like a glory above the 
high summits. In the bed of the river were the seven 
countesses of Schonberg turned into seven rocks for their 
cruelty and hard-heartedness toward the knights whom 
their beauty had made captive. In front, at a little dis- 
tance, was the castle of Pfalz, in the middle of the river, 
and from the heights above Caub frowned the crumbling 
citadel of Gutenfels. Imagine all this, and tell me if it is 
not a ^jicture whose memory should last a lifetime. 



74 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

We came at last to Bingen, the southern gate of the 
hio-hlands. Here, on an island in the middle of the stream, 
is the old mouse-tower where Bishop Hatto of Mayence 
was eaten up by the rats for his wicked deeds. Passing 
Rudesheim and Geissenheim — celebrated for their wines — 
at sunset, we watched the varied shore in the growing dark- 
ness, till like a line of stars across the water we saw before 
us the bridge of Mayence. 

The next morning I parted from my friends, who were 
going to Heidelberg by way of Mannheim, and set out 
alone for Frankfort. The cars passed through Hochheim, 
whose wines are celebrated all over the world ; there is little 
to interest the traveller till he arrives at Frankfort, whose 
spires are seen rising from groves of trees as he approaches. 
I left the cars unchallenged for my passport, greatly to my 
surprise, as it had cost me a long walk and five shillings in 
London to get the signature of the Frankfort consul. I 
learned afterward it was not at all necessary. 

Before leaving America, N. P. Willis had kindly given 
me a letter to his brother, Eichard S. Willis, who is now 
cultivating a naturally fine taste for music in Frankfort, 
and my first care was to find the American consul, in order 
to learn his residence. I discovered at last, from a gentle- 
man who spoke a little French, that the consul's ofiice was 
in the street Bellevue, which street I not only looked for 
through the city, but crossed over the bridge to the suburb 
of Sachsenhausen, and traversed its narrow, dirty alleys 
three several times, but in vain. I was about giving up the 
search, when I stumbled upon the office accidentally. The 
name of the street had been given to me in French, and 
very naturally it was not to be found. Willis received me 
very kindly and introduced me to the amiable German 
family with whom he resides. 

After spending a delightful evening with my newly-found 
friends, I left the next morning in the omnibus for Heidel- 
berg. We passed through Sachsenhausen and ascended a 



PASTOEAL FELICITY. 75 

long hill to the watch-tower, whence there is a beautiful 
view of the Main valley. Four hours' driving over the 
monotonous plain brought me to Darmstadt. The city 
wore a gay look, left by the recent fetes. The monument 
of the old duke Ludwig had just been erected in the centre 
of the great square, and the festival attendant upon the un- 
veiling of it, which lasted three days, had just closed. The 
city was hung with garlands and the square filled with the 
pavilions of the royal family and the musicians, of whom 
there were a thousand present, while everywhere were seen 
red-and-white flags — the colors of Darmstadt. We met 
wagons decorated with garlands, full of peasant girls in 
the odd dress which they have worn for three hundred 
years. 

After leaving Darmstadt we entered upon the Berg- 
strasse, or " Mountain-w^ay," leading along the foot of the 
mountain-chain which extends all the way to Heidelberg 
on the left, while on the right stretches far away the Ehine- 
plain, across which we saw the dim outline of the Donners- 
berg, in France. The hills are crowned with castles and 
their sides loaded with vines ; along the road the rich green 
foliage of the walnut trees arched and nearly met above us. 
The sun shone warm and bright, and everybody appeared 
busy and contented and happy. All we met had smiling 
countenances. In some places we saw whole families sitting 
under the trees shelling the nuts they had beaten down, 
while others were returning from the vineyards laden with 
baskets of purple and white grapes. The scene seemed to 
realize all I had read of the happiness of the German peas- 
antry and the pastoral beauty of the German plains. 

With the passengers in the omnibus I could hold little 
conversation. One, who knew about as much French as I 
did, asked me where I came from, and I shall not soon for- 
get his expression of incredulity as I mentioned America. 
" Why," said he, " you are white ; the Americans are all 
black." 



76 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

We passed tlie ruined castles of Auerback and Starkofi- 
burg and Burg Windeck, on the summit of a mountain 
near Weinlieim, formerly one of the royal residences of 
Charlemagne, and finally came to the Heiligenberg, or 
"Holy Mountain," guarding the entrance into the Oden- 
wald by the valley of the Neckar. As we wound around 
its base to the river the Kaiser-stuhl rose before us with the 
mighty castle hanging upon its side and Heidelberg at its 
feet. It was a most strikingly beautiful scene, and for a 
moment I felt inclined to assent to the remark of my bad- 
French acquaintance : " America is not beautiful; Heidel- 
berg is beautiful." The sun had just set as we turned the 
corner of the Holy Mountain and drove up the bank of the 
Neckar ; all the chimes of Heidelberg began suddenly to 
ring and a cannon by the river-side was fired ofi" every min- 
ute, the sound echoing five times distinctly from mountain 
back to mountain, and finally crashing far off along the 
distant hills of the Odenwald. It was the birthday of the 
grand duke of Baden, and these rejoicings were for the 
closing JUe. 



CHAPTER IX. 

SCENES IN AND AROUND HEIDELBERG. 

September 30. 
There is so much to be seen around this beautiful place 
that I scarcely know where to begin a description of it. I 
have been wandering among the wild paths that lead up 
and down the mountain-side or away into the forests and 
lonely meadows in the lap of the Odenwald. My mind is 
filled with images of the romantic German scenery, whose 
real beauty is beginning to displace the imaginary picture 
which I had painted with the enthusiastic words of Howitt. 



AN HISTOEIC PANOEAMA. 77 

I seem to stand now upon the Kaiser-stuhl, whicli rises 
above Heidelberg, with that magnificent landscape around 
me from the Black Forest and Strasburg to Mainz, and 
from the Vosges in France to the hills of Spessart in 
Bavaria. What a glorious panorama ! and not less rich in 
associations than in its natural beauty. Below me had 
moved the barbarian hordes of old, the triumphant follow- 
ers of Arminius and the cohorts of Rome, and later full 
many a warlike host bearing the banners of the red cross 
to the Holy Land, many a knight returning with his vas- 
sals from the field to lay at the feet of his lady-love the 
scarf he had Avorn in a hundred battles and claim the re- 
ward of his constancy and devotion. But brighter spirits 
had also toiled below. That plain had witnessed the pres- 
ence of Luther, and a host who strove with him to free the 
world from the chains of a corrupt and oppressive religion. 
There had also trodden the master-spirits of German song 
— ^the giant twain with their scarcely less harmonious 
brethren. They, too, had gathered inspiration from those 
scenes — ^more fervent worship of Nature and a deeper love 
for their beautiful fatherland. 

Oh what waves of crime and bloodshed have swept like 
the waves of a deluge down the valley of the Rhine ! War 
has laid his mailed hand on those desolate towers and ruth- 
lessly torn down what Time has spared, yet he could not 
mar the beauty of the shore, nor could Time himself hurl 
down the mountains that guard it. And what if I feel a 
new inspiration on beholding the scene ? Now that those 
ages have swept by like the red waves of a tide of blood, 
we see, not the darkened earth, but the golden sands which 
the flood has left behind. Besides, I have come from a 
new world, where the spirit of man is untrammelled by the 
mouldering shackles of the past, but in its youthful and 
joyous freedom goes on to make itself a noble memory foi 
the ages that are to come. 

Then there is the Wolfsbrunnen, which one reaches by a 



78 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

beautiful walk up the bank of the Neckar to a quiet dell 
in the side of the mountain. Through this the roads lead 
up by rustic mills always in motion, and orchards laden 
with ripening fruit, to the commencement of the forest, 
where a quaint stone fountain stands, commemorating the 
abode of a sorceress of the olden time who was torn in 
pieces by a wolf. There is a handsome rustic inn here, 
where every Sunday afternoon a band plays in the portico, 
while hundreds of people are scattered around in the cool 
shadow of the trees or feeding the splendid trout in the 
basin formed by the little stream. They generally return 
to the city by another walk, leading along the mountain- 
side to the eastern terrace of the castle, where they have 
fine views of the great Rhine plain, terminated by the 
Alsatian hills stretching along the western horizon like the 
long crested swells on the ocean. We can even see these 
from the windows of our room on the bank of the Neckar, 
and I often look with interest on one sharp peak, for on its 
side stands the castle of Trifels, where Coeur de Lion was 
imprisoned by the duke of Austria, and where Blondel, his 
faithful minstrel, sang the ballad which discovered the re- 
treat of the noble captive. 

The people of Heidelberg are rich in places of pleasure 
and amusement. From the Carl Platz, an open square at the 
upper end of the city, two paths lead directly up to the 
castle. By the first walk we ascend a flight of steps to the 
western gate ; passing through which, we enter a delightftil 
garden, between the outer walls of the castle and the huge 
moat which surrounds it. Great linden, oak and beech 
trees shadow the walk, and in secluded nooks little moun- 
tain-streams spring from the side of the wall into stone 
basins. There is a tower over the moat on the south side, 
next the mountain, where the portcullis still hangs with its 
sharp teeth as it was last drawn up ; on each side stand two 
grim knights guarding the entrance. In one of the wooded 
walks is an old tree brought from America in the yeai 



HEIDELBERG CASTLE. 79 

1618. It is of the kind called arbor vitcB, and uncommonly 
tall and slender for one of this species ; yet it does not seem 
to thrive well in a foreign soil. I noticed that persons had 
cut many slips off the lower branches, and I would have 
been tempted to do the same myself if there had been any 
I could reach. In the curve of the mountain is a hand- 
some pavilion surrounded with beds of flowers and foun- 
tains ; here all classes meet together in the afternoon to sit 
with their refreshments in the shade, while frequently a 
fine band of music gives them their invariable recreation. 
All this, with the scenery around them, leaves nothing un- 
finished to their present enjoyment. The Germans enjoy 
life under all circumstances, and in this way they make 
themselves much happier than we who have far greater 
means of being so. 

At the end of the terrace built for the princess Elizabeth 
of England is one of the round towers which was split in 
twain by the French. Half has fallen entirely away, and 
the other semicircular shell, which joins the terrace and 
part of the castle-buildings, clings firmly together, although 
part of its foundation is gone, so that its outer ends actu- 
ally hang in the air. Some idea of the strength of the 
castle may be obtained when I state that the walls of this 
tower are twenty-two feet thick, and that a staircase has 
been made through them to the top, where one can sit 
under the lindens growing upon it or look down from the 
end on the city below with the pleasant consciousness that 
the great mass upon which he stands is only prevented 
from crashing down with him by the solidity of its masonry. 
On one side, joining the garden, the statue of the archduke 
Louis in his breastplate and flowing beard looks out from 
among the ivy. 

There is little to be seen about the castle except the 
walls themselves. The guide conducted us through pas- 
sages in which were heaped many of the enormous cannon- 
balls which it had received in sieges to some chambers in 



80 



VIEWS A-FOOT. 



tlie foundation. This was the oldest part of the castle, built 
in the thirteenth century. We also visited the chapel, 
which is in a tolerable state of preservation. A kind of 
narrow bridge crosses it, over which we walked, looking 
down on the empty pulpit and deserted shrines. We then 
went into the cellar to see the celebrated tun. In a large 
vault are kept several enormous hogsheads, one of which 
is three hundred years old, but they are nothing in com- 
parison with the tun, which itself fills a whole vault. It is 
as high as a common two-story house ; on the top is a plat- 
form upon which the people used to dance after it was 
filled, to which one ascends by two flights of steps. I 
forget exactly how many casks it holds, but I believe eight 
hundred. It has been empty for fifty years. 

We are very pleasantly situated here. My friends, who 
arrived a day before me, hired three rooms (with the as- 
sistance of a courier) in a large house on the banks of the 
Neckar. We pay for them, with attendance, thirty florins — 
about twelve dollars — a month, and Frau Dr. Grosch, our 
polite and talkative landlady, gives us a student's break- 
fast — coffee and biscuit — for about seven cents apiece. We 
are often much amused to hear her endeavors to make us 
understand. As if to convey her meaning plainer, she raises 
both thumbs and forefingers to her mouth and pulls out the 
words like a long string ; her tongue goes so fast that it 
keeps my mind always on a painful stretch to comprehend 

an idea here and there. Dr. S , from whom we take les- 

eons in German, has kindly consented to our dining with his 
family for the sake of practice in speaking. We have taken 
several long walks with them along the banks of the Neckar, 
but I should be puzzled to repeat any of the conversations 
that took place. The language, however, is fast growing 
more familiar since women are the principal teachers. 

Opposite my window rises the Heiligenberg, on the other 
side of the Neckar. The lower part of it is rich with vine- 
yards, and many cottages stand embosomed in shrubbery 



"THE PHILOSOPHERS' WAY." 81 

among tliem. Sometimes we see groups of maidens standing 
under the grape-arbors, and every morning the peasant- 
women go toiling up the steep paths with baskets on their 
heads, to labor among the vines. Ou the Neckar, below us. 
the fishermen glide about in their boats, sink their square 
nets fastened to a long pole, and haul them up with the glit- 
tering fish, of which the stream is full. I often lean out or 
the window late at night, when the mountains above are 
wrapped in dusky obscurity, and listen to the low, musical 
ripple of the river. It tells to my excited fancy a knightly 
legend of the old German time. Then comes the bell 
rung for closing the inns, breaking the spell with its 
deep clang, which vibrates far away on the night-air till 
it has roused all the echoes of the Odenwald. I then shut 
the window, turn into the narrow box which the Germans 
call a bed, and in a few minutes am w^andering in America. 

Halfway up the Heiligenberg runs a beautiful walk divid- 
ing the vineyards from the forest above. This is called 
" The Philosophers' Way," because it was the favorite ram- 
ble of the old professors of the university. It can be reached 
by a toilsome, winding path among the vines, called the 
Snake-way ; and when one has ascended to it, he is well re- 
warded by the lovely view. In the evening, when the sun 
has got behind the mountain, it is delightful to sit on the 
stone steps and watch the golden light creeping up the side 
of the Kaiser-stuhl, till at last twilight begins to darken in 
the valley and a mantle of mist gathers above the Neckar. 

We ascended the mountain a few days ago. There is a 
path which leads up through the forest, but we took the 
shortest way, directly up the side, though it was at an angle 
of nearly fifty degrees. It was hard-enough work scram- 
bling through the thick broom and heather and over stumps 
and stones. In one of the stone-heaps I dislodged a large 
orange-colored salamander seven or eight inches long. They 
are sometimes found on these mountains, as well as a very 
large kind of lizard, called the eidechse, which the Germans 

6 




82 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

say is perfectly harmless, and if one whistles or plays a pipe 
will come and play around him. 

The view from the top reminded me of that from Cats- 
kill Mountain House, but is on a smaller scale. The 
mountains stretch off sideways, confining the view to but 
half the horizon, and in the middle of the picture the Hud- 
son is well represented by the lengthened windings of the 
" abounding Rhine." Nestled at the base, below us, was the 
little village of Handschuhheim, one of the oldest in this 
part of Germany. The castle of its former lords has nearly 
all fallen down, but the massive solidity of the walls which 
yet stand proves its antiquity. A few years ago a part of 
the outer walls which was remarked to have a hollow sound 
was taken down, when there fell from a deep niche built 
therein a skeleton clad in a suit of the old German armor. 
We followed a road through the woods to the peak on which 
stand the ruins of St. Michael's chapel, which was built in 
the tenth century and inhabited for a long time by a sect 
of white monks. There is now but a single tower remain- 
ing, and all around is grown over with tall bushes and weeds. 
It had a wild and romantic look, and I sat on a rock and 
sketched at it till it grew dark, when we got down the moun- 
tain the best way we could. 

We lately visited the great university library. You walk 
through one hall after another filled with books of all kinds, 
from the monkish manuscript of the Middle Ages to the 
most elegant print of the present day. There is something 
to me more impressive in a library like this than a solemn 
cathedral. I think involuntarily of the hundreds of mighty 
spii'its who speak from these three hundred thousand vol- 
umes — of the toils and privations with which Genius has 
ever struggled, and of his glorious reward. As in a church, 
one feels, as it were, the presence of God — not because the 
place has been hallowed by his worship, but because all 
around stand the inspirations of his Spirit breathed through 
the mind of Genius to men. And if the mortal remains of 



EECKUITING THE ARMY. 83 

saints and heroes do not repose within its walls, the great 
and good of the whole earth are there, speaking their coun- 
sels to the searcher for truth with voices whose last rever- 
beration will die away only when the globe falls into ruin. 

A few nights ago there was a wedding of peasants across 
the river. In order to celebrate it particularly, the guests 
went to the house where it was given by torchlight. The 
night was quite dark, and the bright red torches glowed on 
the surface of the Neckar as the two couriers galloped along 
the banks to the bridegroom's house. Here, after much 
shouting and confusion, the procession was arranged ; the 
two riders started back again with their torches, and the 
wagons containing the guests followed after with their flick- 
ering lights glancing on the water till they disappeared 
around the foot of the mountain. The choosing of con- 
scripts also took place lately. The law^ requires one person 
out of every hundred to become a soldier, and this in the 
city of Heidelberg amounts to nearly one hundred and fifty. 
It was a sad spectacle. The young men — or, rather, boys — 
who were chosen went about the city with cockades fastened 
on their hats, shouting and singing, many of them quite in- 
toxicated. I could not help pitying them because of the 
dismal mechanical life they are doomed to follow. Many 
were rough, ignorant peasants to whom nearly any kind of 
life would be agreeable, but there were some whose coun- 
tenances spoke otherwise, and I thought involuntarily that 
their drunken gayety was only affected to conceal theii' real 
feelings with regard to the lot which had fallen upon them. 
We are gradually becoming accustomed to the German 
style of living, which is very different from our own. Their 
cookery is new to us, but is, nevertheless, good. We have 
every day a different kind of soup, so I have supposed they 
keep a regular list of three hundred and sixty-five — one for 
every day in the year. Then we have potatoes " done up " 
in oil and vinegar, veal flavored with orange-peel, barley- 
pudding and all sorts of pancakes, boiled artichokes, and 



84 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

always rye bread in loaves a yard long. Nevertheless, we 
thrive on such diet, and I have rarely enjoyed more sound 
and refreshing sleep than in their narrow and coffin-like 
beds, uncomfortable as they seem. 

Many of the German customs are amusing. We never see 
oxen working here, but always cows, sometimes a single one in 
a cart, and sometimes two fastened together by a yoke across 
their horns. The women labor constantly in the fields ; 
from our window we can hear the nut-brown maidens sing- 
ing their cheerful songs among the vineyards on the moun- 
tain-side. Their costume, too, is odd enough. Below the 
tight-fitting vest they wear such a number of short skirts, 
one above another, that it reminds one of an animated hogs- 
head with a head and shoulders starting out from the top. 
I have heard it gravely asserted that the wealth of a Ger- 
man damsel may be known by counting the number of her 
*•' kirtles." An acquaintance of mine remarked that it would 
be an excellent costume for falling down a precipice. 

We have just returned from a second visit to Frankfort, 
where the great annual fair filled the streets with noise and 
bustle. On our way back we stopped at the village of 
Zwingenberg, which lies at the foot of the Melibochus, for 
the purpose of visiting some of the scenery of the Odenwald. 
Passing the night at the inn there, we slept with one bed 
under and two above, and started early in the morning to 
climb up the side of the Melibochus. After a long walk 
through the forests, which were beginning to change their 
summer foliage for a brighter garment, we reached the sum- 
mit and ascended the stone tower which stands upon it. 
This view gives one a better idea of the Odenwald than that 
from the Kaiser-stuhl at Heidelberg. In the soft autumn 
atmosphere it looked even more beautiful. After an hour 
in that heaven of uplifted thought into which we step from 
the mountain-top our minds went with the path downward 
to earth, and we descended the eastern side into the wild 
region which contains the Felsenmeer, or " Sea of Rocks." 



THE SEA OF EOCKS. 



85 



We met on the way a student from FuHa— a fine speci- 
men of that free-spirited class, and a man whose smothered 
aspiration was betrayed in the flashing of his eye as he spoke 
of the present painful and oppressed condition of Germany. 
We talked so busily together that without noticmg the path 
which had been bringing us on up hill and down, through 
forest and over rock, we came at last to a halt m a valley 
amono- the mountains. Making inquiries there, we found 
we had gone wrong, and must ascend by a diflerent path the 
mountain we had just come down. Near the summit of this, 
in a wild pine wood, was the Felsenmeer-a great collection 
of rocks heaped together Uke pebbles on the seashore and 
worn and rounded as if by the action of water : so much do 
they resemble waves that one standing at the bottom and 
looking up cannot resist the idea that they will flow down 
uiDon him. It must have been a mighty tide whose reced- 
ing waves left these masses piled up together. The same 
formation continues at intervals to the foot of the mountains. 
It reminded me of a glacier of rocks instead of ice A little 
hi-her up lies a massive block of granite called the Giant s 
Column. It is thirty-two feet long and three to four feet m 
diameter, and still bears the mark of the chisel. When or 
by whom it was made remains a mystery. Some have sup- 
posed it was intended to be erected for the worship of the 
Tun bv the wild Teutonic tribes who inhabited this forest; 
\t is more probably the work of the Komans. A P™J^" 
ouce started to erect it as a monument on the battle-fie d 
of Leipsic, but it was found too difiicult to carry into 

'^Afterdining at the little village of Reichelsdorf, in the 
valley below-where the merry landlord charged my friend 
two kreutzers less than myself because he was not^«,t^ll- 
we visited the castle of Schonberg, and joined the Beig- 
strasse again. We walked the rest of the way here. Long 
before we arrived the moon shone down on us over the 
mountains; and when we turned around the foot ot the 



86 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Heiligenberg, the mist descending in the valley of the 
Neckar rested like a light cloud on the church-spires. 



CHAPTEK X. 

A WALK THEOUGH THE ODENWALD. 

B and I are now comfortably settled in Frankfort, 

having, with Mr. Willis's kind assistance, obtained lodgings 
with the amiable family with whom he has resided for 
more than two years. My cousin remains in Heidelberg to 
attend the winter course of lectures at the university. 

Having forwarded our baggage by the omnibus, we came 
hither on foot, through the heart of the Odenwald — a region 

full of interest, yet little visited by travellers. Dr. S 

and his family walked with us three or four miles of the 
way, and on a hill above Ziegelhausen, with a splendid view 
behind us through the mountain-door out of which the 
Neckar enters on the Rhine-plain, we parted. This was a 
first, and, I must confess, a somewhat embarrassing, experi- 
ence in German leavetaking. After bidding adieu three or 
four times, we started to go up the mountain and they down 
it, but at every second step we had to turn around to ac- 
knowledge the waving of hands and handkerchiefs, which 
continued so long that I was glad when we were out of sight 
of each other. We descended on the other side into a wild 
and romantic valley whose meadows were of the brightest 
green ; a little brook which wound through them put now 
and then its " silvery shoulder " to the wheel of a rustic 
mill. By the roadside two or three wild-looking gypsies 
sat around a fire, with some goats feeding near them. 

Passing through this valley and the little village of 
Schonau, we commenced ascending one of the loftiest ranges 
of the Odenwald. The side of the mountain was covered 



NATUEE'S CATHEDEAL. 87 

with a thick pine-forest. There was no wind to wake its 
solemn anthem; all was calm and majestic, and even awful. 
The trees rose all around like the pillars of a vast cathedral 
whose long arched aisles vanished far below in the deepen- 
ing gloom. 

" Nature with folded hands seemed there, 
Kneeling at her evening prayer," 

for twilight had already begun to gather. We went on and 
up and ever higher, like the youth in "Excelsior;" the 
beech and dwarf-oak took the place of the pine, and at last 
we arrived at a cleared summit whose long brown grass 
waved desolately in the dim light of evening. A faint glow 
still lingered over the forest-hills, but down in the valley 
the dusky shades hid every vestige of life, though its sounds 
came up softened through the long space. When we reached 
the top, a bright planet stood like a diamond over the brow 
of the eastern hill, and the sound of a twilight-bell came up 
clearly and sonorously on the cool damp air. The white 
veil of mist slowly descended down the mountain-side, but 
the peaks rose above it like the wrecks of a world floating 
in space. 

We made our way in the dusk down the long path to the 
rude little dorf of Elsbach. I asked at the first inn for lodg- 
ing, where we v/ere ushered into a great room in which a 
number of girls who had been at work in the fields were as- 
sembled. They were all dressed in men's jackets and short 
gowns, and some had their hair streaming down their back. 
The landlord's daughter, however, was a beautiful girl whose 
modest, delicate features contrasted greatly with the coarse 
faces of the others. I thought of Uhland's beautiful little 
poem of "The Landlady's Daughter" as I looked on her. 
In the room hung two or three pair of antlers, and they 
told us deer were still plenty in the forests. 

When we left the village the next morning, we again 
commenced ascending. Over the whole valley and halfway 



88 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

up the mouDtain lay a thick white frost almost like snow, 
which, contrasted with the green trees and bushes scattered 
over the meadows, produced the most singular etiect. We 
plucked blackberries ready iced from the bushes by the 
roadside, and went on in the cold — for the sun shone only 
on the top of the opposite mountain — into another valley, 
down which rushed the rapid Ulver. At a little village 
which bears the beautiful name Anteschonmattenwag we 
took a footpath directly over a steep mountain to the village 
of Finkenbach. Near the top I found two wild-looking 
children cutting grass with knives, both of whom I prevailed 
upon for a few kreutzei-s to stand and let me sketch them. 
From the summit the view on the other side was very striking. 
The hills were nearly every one covered with wood, and not 
a dwelling in sight. It reminded me of our forest-scenery 
at home. The principal difierence is that our trees are two 
or three times the size of theirs. 

At length, after scaling another mountain, we reached a 
wide elevated plain in the middle of which stood the old 
dorf of Beerfelden. It was then crowded with people, on 
account of a great cattle-fair being held there. Ail the 
farmers of the neighborhood were assembled, clad in the 
ancient country costume — broad cocked hats and blue, 
frocks. An orchard near the town was filled with cattle 
and horses, and near by, in the shade, a number of pedlers 
had arranged their wares. The cheerful-looking country- 
people touched their hats to us as we passed. This custom 
of greeting travellers — universal in Germany — is very ex- 
pressive of their social friendly manners. Among the 
mountains we frequently met groups of children who sang 
together their simple ballads as we passed by. 

From Beerfelden we passed down the valley of the Mim- 
ling to Erbach, the principal city in the Odenwald, and 
there stopped a short time to view the ritfersaal in the old 
family castle of the counts of Erbach. An officer who 
stood at the gates conducted us to the door, where we were 



A TIIIEYISIi ANTIQUAEIAN. 89 

received by a noble-looking gray-beaded steward. He 
took us into tlie rittersaal at once, wbicb was like stepping 
back tbree bundred years. The stained windows of the 
lofty Gothic hall let in a subdued light which fell on the 
forms of kings and knights clad in the armor they wore 
during life. On the left as we entered were mail-covered 
fia:ures of John and Cosmo de Medici ; farther on stood the 
emperor Maximilian, and by his side the celebrated dwarf 
who was served up in a pie at one of the imperial feasts. 
His armor was most delicate and beautiful, but, small as it 
was, General Thumb would have had room in it. Gustavus 
Adolphus and Wallenstein looked down from the neighbor- 
ing pedestals, while at the other end stood Goetz von Ber- 
lichingen and Albert of Brunswick. Guarding the door 
were Hans, the robber-knight of Nuremberg, and another 
from the Thiiringian Forest. The steward told me that 
the iron hand of Goetz was in possession of the family, but 
not shown to strangers; he pointed out, however, the 
buckles on the armor by which it was fastened. Adjoining 
the hall is an antique chapel filled with rude old tombs and 
containing the sarcophagus of Count Eginhard of Den- 
mark, who lived about the tenth century. There were also 
monkish garments five hundred years old hanging up in it. 

The collection of antiquities is large and interesting, but 
it is said that the old count obtained some of them in rather 
a questionable manner. Among other incidents, they say 
that when in Kome he visited the pope, taking with him an 
old servant who accompanied him in all his travels and was 
the accomplice in most of his antiquarian thefts. In one 
of the outer halls, among the curiosities, was an antique 
shield of great value. The servant was left in this hall 
while the count had his audience, and in a short time this 
shield was missed. The servant, who wore a long cloak, 
was missed also ; orders were given to close the gates and 
search everybody, but it was too late : the thief was gone. 

Leavintr Erbach, we found out the direction of Snellert, 



90 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the castle of the Wild Huntsman, and took a road that led 
us for tAvo or three hours along the top of a mountain- 
ridge. Through the openings in the pine- and larch-forests 
we had glimpses of the hills of Spessart, beyond the Main. 
When we finally left the by-road we had chosen, it w^ 
quite dark, and we missed the way altogether among the 
lanes and meadows. We came at last to a full stop at the 
house of a farmer, who guided us by a footpath over the 
fields to a small village. On entering the only inn, kept by 
the burgomaster, the people, finding we were Americans, re- 
garded us with a curiosity quite uncomfortable. They 
crowded around the door, watching every motion, and 
gazed in through the windows. The Wild Huntsman him- 
self could scarcely have made a greater sensation. The 
news of our arrival seemed to have spread very fast, for 
the next morning, when we stopped at a prune-orchard 
some distance from the village to buy some fruit, the farmer 
cried out from a tree, " They are Americans ; give them as 
many as they want for nothing !" 

With the burgomaster's little son for a guide, we went 
back a mile or two of our route to Snellert, which we had 
passed the night before, and after losing ourselves two or 
three times in the woods arrived at last at the top of the 
mountain where the ruins of the castle stand. The walls 
are nearly level with the ground. The interest of a visit 
rests entirely on the romantic legend and the wild view over 
the hills around, particularly that in front, where on the 
opposite mountain are the ruins of Rodenstein, to which 
the Wild Huntsman was wont to ride at midnight — where 
lie now rides no more. The echoes of Rodenstein are no 
longer awakened by the sound of his bugle and the hoofs 
of his demon-steed clanging on the battlements, but the 
hills around are wild enough and the roar of the pine- 
forests deep enough to have inspired the simple peasants 
witli the romantic tradition. 

Stopping for dinner at the town of Rheinheim, we met 



EMIGEANTS TO TEXAS. 91 

an old man who on learning we were Americans walked 
with us as far as the next village. He had a daughter in 
America, and was highly gratified to meet any one from the 
country of her adoption. He made me promise to visit her 
if I ever should go to St. Louis, and say that I had walked 
with her father from Rheinheim to Zwangenburg. To 
satisfy his fears that I might forget it, I took down his 
name and that of his daughter. He shook me warmly by 
the hand at parting, and was evidently made happier for 
that day. 

We reached Darmstadt just in time to take a seat in the 
omnibus for Frankfort. Among the passengers were a Bava- 
rian family on their way to Bremen, to ship from thence to 
Texas. I endeavored to discourage the man from choosing 
such a country as his home by telling him of its heats and 
pestilences, but he was too full of hope to be shaken in his 
purpose. I would have added that it was a slave-land, but 
I thought on our own country's curse, and was silent. The 
wife was not so sanguine ; she seemed to mourn in secret 
at leaving her beautiful fatherland. It was saddening to 
think how lonely they would feel in that far home, and how 
they would long with true German devotion to look again 
on the green vintage-hills of their forsaken country. As 
night drew on the little girl crept over to her father for his 
accustomed evening kiss; and then sank back to sleep in a 
corner of the wagon. The boy, in the artless confidence of 
childhood, laid his head on my breast, weary with the day's 
travel, and soon slept also. Thus we drove on in the dark, 
till at length the lights of Frankfort glimmered on the 
breast of the rapid Main as we passed over the bridge ; 
and when we stopped near the cathedral, I delivered up my 
little charge and sent my sympathy with the wanderers on 
their lonely way. 



92 VIEWS A-FOOT. 



CHAPTER XI. 

SCENES IN FRANKFOKT. — AN AMERICAN COMPOSER. — THE 
POET FREILIGRATH. 

December 4. 

This is a genuine old German city. Founded by Charle- 
magne, afterward a rallying-point of the crusaders, and for 
a long time the capital of the German empire, it has no lack 
of interesting historical recollections, and, notwithstanding 
it is fast becoming modernized, one is everywhere reminded 
of the past. The cathedral, old as the days of Peter the 
Hermit, the grotesque street of the Jew's, the many quaint, 
antiquated dwellings and the mouldering watch-to wei-s on 
the hills around give it a more interesting character than 
any German city I have yet seen. The house we dwell in, 
on the Markt Platz, is more than two hundred years old ; 
directly opposite is a great castellated building gloomy 
with the weight of six centuries, and a few steps to the 
left brings me to the square of the Romerberg, where the 
emperors were crowned, in a corner of which is a curi- 
ously ornamented house formerly the residence of Luther. 
There are legends innumerable connected with all these 
buildings, and even yet discoveries are frequently made in 
old houses of secret chambers and staircases. When you 
add to all this the German love of ghost-stories, and, indeed, 
their general belief in spirits, the lover of romance could 
not desire a more agreeable residence. 

I often look out on the singular scene below my window. 
On both sides of the street, leaving barely room to enter 
the houses, sit the market-women with their baskets of veg- 
etables and fruit. The middle of the street is filled with 
women buying, and every cart or carriage that comes along 
has to force its way through the crowd, sometimes rolling 
against and overturning the baskets on the side, when for a 



THE GOETHE MONUMENT. 93 

few minutes there is a Babel of unintelligible sounds. The 
country-women in their jackets and short gowns go back- 
ward and forward with great loads on their heads, some- 
times nearly as high as themselves. It is a most singular 
scene, and so varied that one never tires of looking upon 
it. These women sit here from sunrise till sunset, day after 
day, for years. They have little furnaces for cooking and 
for warmth in winter ; and when it rains, they sit in large 
wooden boxes. One or two policemen are generally on the 
ground in the morning to prevent disputing about their 
places, which often gives rise to interesting scenes. Perhaps 
this kind of life in the open air is conducive to longevity, 
for certainly there is no country on earth that has as many 
old women. Many of them look like walking-machines 
made of leather, and, to judge from what I see in the streets 
here, I should think they work till they die. 

On the 21st of October a most interesting /ete took place. 
The magnificent monument of Goethe, modelled by the 
sculptor Schwanthaler at Munich and cast in bronze, was 
unveiled. It arrived a few days before, and was received 
with much ceremony and erected in the destined spot — an 
open square in the western part of the city planted with 
acacia trees. I went there at ten o'clock, and found the 
square already full of people. Seats had been erected 
around the monument for ladies, the singers and musicians. 
A company of soldiers was stationed to keep an entrance 
for the procession, which at length arrived with music and 
banners, and entered the enclosure. A song for the occa- 
sion was sung by the choir ; it swelled up gradually, and 
with such perfect harmony and unity that it seemed like 
some glorious instrument touched by a single hand. Then 
a poetical address was delivered; after which, four young 
men took their stand at the corners of the monument ; the 
drums and trumpets gave a flourish, and the mantle fell. 
The noble figure seemed to rise out of the earth, and thus 
amid shoutings and the triumphal peal of the band the 



94 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

form of Goethe greeted the city of his birth. He is rep- 
resented as leaning on the trunk of a tree, holding in his 
right hand a roll of parchment and in his left a wreath. 
The pedestal, which is also of bronze, contains bas-reliefs 
representing scenes from Faust, Wilhelm Meister and Egmont. 
In the evening Goethe's house, in a street near, was illumi- 
nated by arches of lamps between the windows and hung 
with wreaths of flowers. Four pillars of colored lamps 
lighted the statue. At nine o'clock the choir of singers 
came again in a procession, with colored lanterns on poles, 
and after singing two or three songs the statue was exhibited 
in the red glare of the bengal-light. The trees and houses 
around the square were covered with the glow, which 
streamed in broad sheets up against the dark sky. 

Within the walls the greater part of Frankfort is built 
in the old German style, the houses six or seven stories high 
and every story projecting out over the other ; so that those 
living in the upper part can nearly shake hands out of the 
windows. At the corners figures of men are often seen 
holding up the story above on their shoulders and making 
horrible faces at the weight. When I state that in all these 
narrow streets, which constitute the greater part of the city, 
there are no sidewalks, the windows of the lower stories 
with an iron grating extending a foot or so into the street, 
which is only wide enough for one cart to pass along, you 
can have some idea of the facility of walking through them, 
to say nothing of the piles of wood and market-women 
with baskets of vegetables which one is continually stum- 
bling over. Even in the wider streets I have always to 
look before and behind to keep out of the way of the fiacres ; 
the people here get so accustomed to it that they leave barely 
room for them to pass, and the carriages go dashing by at a 
nearness which sometimes makes me shudder. 

As I walked across the Main and looked down at the 
swift stream on its way from the distant Thuringian Forest 
to join the Rhine, I thought of the time when Schiller 



SATAN FOILED. 95 

stood there in the days of his early struggles, an exile from 
his native land, and, looking over the bridge, said in the 
loneliness of his heart, " That water flows not so deep as my 
sufferings." In the middle, on an iron ornament, stands 
the golden cock at which Goethe used to marvel when a 
boy. Perhaps you have not heard the legend connected 
with this ? The bridge was built several hundred years ago 
with such strength and solidity that it will stand many hun- 
dred yet. The architect had contracted to build it within 
a certain time, but, as it drew near without any prospect of 
fulfilment, the devil appeared to him and promised to finish 
it on condition of having the first soul that passed over it. 
This was agreed upon, and the devil performed his part of 
the bargain. The artist, however, on the day appointed, 
drove a cock across before he sufiered any one to pass ovei 
it. His Majesty stationed himself under the middle arch 
of the bridge, awaiting his prey ; but, enraged at the cheat, 
he tore the unfortunate fowl in pieces and broke two holes 
in the arch, saying they should never be built up again. 
The golden cock was erected on the bridge as a token of 
the event, but the devil has perhaps lost some of his power 
in these latter days, for the holes were filled up about thirty 
years ago. 

From the hills on the Darmstadt road I had a view of 
the country around ; the fields were white and bare, and 
the dark Tannus, with the broad patches of snow on his 
sides, looked grim and shadowy through the dim atmosphere. 
It was like the landscape of a dream — dark, strange and 
silent. The whole of last month we saw the sun but two or 
three days, the sky being almost continually covered with 
a gloomy fog. England and Germany seem to have ex- 
changed climates this year, for in the former country we had 
delightfully clear weather. 

I have seen the banker Rothschild several times driving 
about the city. This one — Anselmo, the most celebrated 
of the brothers — holds a mortgage on the city of Jerusalem. 



96 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

^e rides about in style, with officers attending his carriage. 
He is a little baldheaded man with marked Jewish features, 
and is said not to deceive his looks. At any rate, his repu- 
tation is none of the best, either with Jews or Christians. 
A caricature was published some time ago in which he is 
represented as giving a beggar-woman by the wayside a 
kreutzer — the smallest German coin. She is made to ex- 
claim, " God reward you a thousand fold !" He immedi- 
ately replies, after reckoning up in his head, " How much 
have I then ? Sixteen florins and forty kreutzers !" 

I have lately heard one of the most perfectly beautiful 
creations that ever emanated from the soul of genius — the 
opera of Fidelio. I have caught faint glimpses of that rich 
world of fancy and feeling to which music is the golden 
door. Surrendering myself to the grasp of Beethoven's 
powerful conception, I read in sounds far more expressive 
than words the almost despairing agony of the strong- 
hearted but still tender and womanly Fidjelio, the ecstatic 
joy of the wasted prisoner when he rose from his hard 
couch in the dungeon, seeming to feel in his maniac brain 
the presentiment of a bright being who would come to un- 
bind his chains, and the sobbing and wailing, almost human, 
which came from the orchestra when they dug his grave by 
the dim lantern's light. When it was done, the murderer 
stole into the dungeon to gloat on the agonies of his victim 
ere he gave the death-blpw. Then, while the prisoner is 
waked to reason by that sight, and Fidelio throws herself 
before the uplifted dagger, rescuing her husband with the 
courage which love gives to a woman's heart, the storm of 
feeling which has been gathering in the music swells to a 
height beyond which it seemed impossible for the soul to 
pass. My nerves were thrilled till I could bear no more, 
A mist seemed to come before my eyes, and I scarcely knew 
what folloAved, till the rescued kneeled together and poured 
forth in the closing hymn the painfiil fulness of their joy. 
I dreaded the sound of voices after the close and the walk 



EICIIAED S. WILLIS. 97 

home amid the harsh rattling of vehicles on the rough 
streets. For days afterward my brain was filled with a 
mingled and confused sense of melody like the half remem- 
bered music of a dream. 

Why should such magnificent creations of art be denied 
the New World ? There is certainly enthusiasm and refine- 
ment of feeling enough at home to appreciate them were 
the proper direction given to the popular taste. What 
country possesses more advantages to foster the growth of 
such an art than ours ? Why should not the composer gain 
mighty conceptions from the grandeur of our mountain- 
scenery, from the howling of the storm through our giant 
forests, from the eternal thunder of Niagara ? All these 
collateral influences, which more or less tend to the devel- 
opment and expansion of genius, are characteristics of our 
country, and a taste for musical compositions of a refined 
and lofty character would soon give birth to creators. 

Fortunately for our country, this missing star in the 
crown of her growing glory will probably soon be replaced. 
Richard S. Willis, with whom we have lived in delightful 
companionship since coming here, has been for more than 
two years studying and preparing himself for the higher 
branches of composition. The musical talent he displayed 
while at college, and the success following the publication 
of a set of beautiful waltzes he there composed, led him to 
choose this most difiicult but lofty path ; the result justifies 
his early promise and gives the most sanguine anticipations 
for the future. He studied the first two years here under 
Schnyder von Wartensee, a distinguished Swiss composer, 
and his exercises have met with the warmest approval from 
Mendelssohn, at present the first German composer, and 
Rinck, the celebrated orga,nist. The enormous labor and 
application required to go through the preparatory studies 
alone would make it seem almost impossible for one with 
the restless energy of the American character to undertake 
it ; but, as this very energy gives genius its greatest power, 

r 



98 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

we may now trust with confidence that Willis, since he has 
nearly completed his studies, will win himself and his 
country honor in the difficult path he has chosen. 

One evening, after sunset, we took a stroll around the 
promenades. The swans Avere still floating on the little 
lake, and the American poplar beside it was in its full au- 
tumn livery. As we made the circuit of the walks guns 
were firing far and near, celebrating the opening of the 
vintage the next day, and rockets went glittering and spark- 
ling up into the dark air. Notwithstanding the late hour 
and lowering sky, the walks were full of people, and we 
strolled about with them till it grew quite dark, watching 
the fireworks which arose from the gardens around. 

The next day we went into the Frankfort wood. Willis 
and his brother-in-law, Charles F. Dennett of Boston, Dr. 
Dix and another young gentleman from the same city 
formed the party— six Americans in all. We walked over 
the Main and through the dirty suburbs of Sachsenhausen, 
where we met many peasants laden with the first day's vin- 
tage, and crowds of people coming down from the vine- 
yards. As we ascended the hill the sound of firing was 
heard in every direction, and from many vineyards arose 
the smoke of fires where groups of merry children were 
collecting and burning the rubbish. We became lost among 
the winding paths of the pine-forest ; so that by the time 
we came out upon the eminence overlooking the valley of 
the Main it was quite dark. From every side, far and near, 
rockets of all sizes and colors darted high up into the sky. 
Sometimes a flight of the most brilliant crimson and gold 
lights rushed up together ; then, again, by some farmhouse 
in the meadow, the vintagers would burn a Eoman candle, 
throwing its powerful white light on the gardens a,nd fields 
around. We stopped under a garden wall by which a 
laughing company were assembled in the smoke and red 
blaze, and watched several comets go hissing and glancing 
far above us. The cracking of ammunition still continued ; 



FEEILIGKATH. 99 

and when we came again upon the bridge, the city opposite 
was lighted as if illuminated. The full moon had just 
risen, softening and mellowing the beautiful scene, while 
beyond, over the tower of Frankfort, rose and fell the me- 
teors that heralded the vintage. 

Since I have been in Frankfort an event has occurred 
which shows very distinctly the principles at work in Ger- 
many, and gives us some foreboding of the future. Ferdi- 
nand Freiligrath, the first living poet with the exception 
of Uhland, has within a few weeks published a volume of 
poems entitled My Confession of Faith, or Poems for the 
Times. It contains some thrilling appeals to the free spirit 
of the German people, setting forth the injustice under 
which they labor in simple but powerful language, and with 
the most forcible illustrations adapted to the comprehension 
of every one. Viewed as a work of genius alone, it is 
strikingly powerful and original ; but when we consider the 
efiect it is producing among the people— the strength it will 
add to the rising tide of opposition to every form of tyranny 
—it has a still higher interest. Freiligrath had three or 
four years before received a pension of three hundred tha- 
lers from the king of Prussia, soon after his accession to the 
throne ; he ceased to draw this about a year ago, stating in 
the preface to his volume that it was accepted in the belief 
the king would adhere to his promise of giving the people 
a new constitution, but that now, since time has proved 
there is no dependence to be placed on the king's word, he 
must speak for his people and for his land. 

The book has not only been prohibited, but Freiligrath 
has exiled himself voluntarily to escape imprisonment. He 
is now in Paris, where Heine and Herwegh, two of Ger- 
many's finest poets, both banished for the same reason, are 
living. The free spirit which characterizes these men, who 
come from among the people, shows plainly the tendency 
of the times, and it is only the great strength with which 
tyranny here has environed himself, and the almost lethar- 



100 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

gic slowness of the Germans, which has prevented a change 
ere this. 

In this volume of Freiligrath's, among other things, is a 
translation of Bryant's magnificent poem "The Winds," 
and Burns's "A Man's a Man for a' That," and I have 
translated one of his as a specimen of the spirit in which 
they are written : 

FEEEDOM AND EIGHT. 

Oh, think not she rests in the grave's chilly slumber 

Nor sheds o'er the present her glorious light 
Since Tyranny's shackles the free soul incumber 

And traitors accusing deny to us right. 
No ! Whether to exile the sworn ones are wending, 
Or, weary of power that crushed them unending. 
In dungeons have perished, their veins madly rending,* . 

Yet Fi-eedom still liveth, and with her the Eight ! 

Freedom and Eight ! 

A single defeat can confuse us no longer: 

It adds to the combat's fast-gathering might, 
It bids us but doubly to struggle, and stronger 

To raise up our battle-cry, " Freedom and Eight I" 
For the twain know a union for ever abiding. 
Together in truth and in majesty striding ; 
Where Eight is, already the free are residing, 

And ever where dwell tlie free governeth Eight ! 

Freedom and Eight ! 

And this is a trust. Never made, as at present, 

The glad pair from battle to battle their flight — 
Nevei- breathed through the soul of the downtrodden peasant 

Their spirit so deeply its promptings of light. 
They sweep o'er the earth with a tempest-like token ; 
From strand unto strand words of thunder are spoken ; 
Already the serf finds his manacles broken, 
And those of the negro are falling from sight. 

Freedom and Eight ! 
* This allusion is to Weidig, who, imprisoned for years at Darm- 
stadt on account of his political principles, finally committed suicide 
by cutting his throat with the glass of his prison-window. 



"FEEEDOM AND EIGHT." 101 

Yes, everywhere wide is their war-banner waving 
On the armies of Wrong their revenge to requite ; 

The strength of Oppression they boldly are braving, 
And at last they will conquer, resistless in might. 

O God ! what a glorious wreath then appearing 

Will blend every leaf in the banner they're bearing — 

The olive of Greece and the shamrock of Erin, 
And the oak-bough of Germany, greenest in light I 

Freedom and Eight ! 

And many who suffered are now calmly sleeping 

The slumber of freemen borne down by the fight, 
While the twain o'er their graves still a bright watch are keeping 

Whom we bless for their memories — Freedom and Eight. 
Meanwhile, lift your glasses to those who have striven, 
And, striving with bold hearts, to misery were driven, 
Who fought for the Eight and but Wrong then were given ! 
To Eight, the immortal — to Freedom through Eight I 

Freedom through Eight ! 



CHAPTER XII. 

A WEEK AMONG THE STUDENTS. 

Receiving a letter from my cousin one bright December 
morning, the idea of visiting him struck me, and so within 

an hour B and I were on our way to Heidelberg. It 

was delightful weather ; the air was mild as the early days 
of spring, the pine-forests around wore a softer green, and, 
though the sun was but a hand's-breadth high even at noon, 
it was quite warm on the open road. 

We stopped for the night at Bensheim ; the next morn- 
ing was as dark as a cloudy day in the north can be, wear- 
ing a heavy gloom I never saw elsewhere. The wind blew 
the snow down from the summits upon us, but, being warm 
from walking, we did not heed it. The mountains looked 
higher than in summer, and the old castles more grim and 



102 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

frowning. From the hard roads and freezing wind my feet 
became very sore, and after limping along in excruciating 
pain for a league or two I filled my boots with brandy, 
which deadened the wounds so much that I was enabled to 
go on in a kind of trot, which I kept up, only stopping ten 
minutes to dinner, till we reached Heidelberg. 

The same evening there was to be a general commers, or 
meeting of the societies among the students, and I deter- 
mined not to omit witnessing one of the most interesting 
and characteristic features of student-life. So, borrowing 
a cap and coat, I looked the student well enough to pass for 
one of them, though the former article was somewhat of the 
Philister form. Baader, a young poet of some note and 
president of the Palatia Society having promised to take us 
there, we met at eight o'clock at an inn frequented by the 
students, and went to the rendezvous, near the Markt 
Platz. 

A confused sound of voices came from the inn as we drew 
near ; groups of students were standing around the door. 
In the entry we saw the Ked Fisherman, one of the most 
conspicuous characters about the university. He is a small, 
stout man with bare neck and breast, red hair — whence his 
name — and a strange mixture of roughness and benevolence 
in his countenance. He has saved many persons at the risk 
of his own life from drowning in the Neckar, and on that 
account is leniently dealt with by the faculty whenever he 
is arrested for assisting the students in any of their unlawful 
proceedings. Entering the room, I could scarcely see at 
first, on account of the smoke that ascended from a hundred 
pipes. All was noise and confusion. Near the door sat 
some half dozen musicians who were getting their instru- 
ments ready for action, and the long room was filled with 
tables, all of which seemed to be full, and the students were 
still pressing in. 

The tables were covered with great stone jugs and long 
beer-glasses ; the students were talking and shouting and 



A STUDENTS' COMMERS. 103 

drinking. One who appeared to have the arrangement of 
the meeting found seats for us together, and, having made 
a slight acquaintance with those sitting next us, we felt 
more at liberty to witness their proceedings. They were all 
talking in a sociable, friendly way, and I saw no one who 
appeared to be intoxicated. The beer was a weak mixture 
which I should think would make one fall over from its 
weight before it would intoxicate him. Those sitting near 
me drank but little, and that principally to make or return 
compliments. One or two at the other end of the table 
were more boisterous, and more than one glass was over- 
turned on the legs below it. Leaves containing the songs 
for the evening lay at each seat, and at the head, where the 
president sat, were two swords crossed, with which he occa- 
sionally struck upon the table to preserve order. Our 
president was a fine, romantic-looking young man dressed 
in the old German costume, which is far handsomer than 
the modern. I never saw in any company of young men so 
many handsome, manly countenances. If their faces were 
any index of their characters, there were many noble, free 
souls among them. Nearly opposite to me sat a young poet 
whose dark eyes flashed with feeling as he spoke to those 
near him. 

After some time passed in talking and drinking together, 
varied by an occasional air from the musicians, the presi- 
dent beat order with the sword, and the whole company 
joined in one of their glorious songs to a melody at the 
same time joyous and solemn. Swelled by so many manly 
voices, it rose up like a hymn of triumph ; all other sounds 
were stilled. Three times during the singing all rose up, 
clashed their glasses together around the tables and drank 
to their Fatherland, a health and blessing to the patriot, 
and honor to those who struggle in the cause of freedom, 
at the close thundering out their motto, 

" Fearless in strife, to the banner still true I" 



104 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

After this song the same order as before was continued, 
except that students from the different societies made short 
speeches, accompanied by some toast or sentiment. One 
spoke of Germany, predicting that all her dissensions would 
be overcome and she would rise up at last, like a phoenix, 
among the nations of Europe, and at the close gave " Strong, 
united, regenerated Germany!" Instantly all sprang to 
their feet, and, clashing the glasses together, gave a thun- 
dering "Hoch /" This enthusiasm for their country is one 
of the strongest characteristics of the German students ; 
they have ever been first in the field for her freedom, and 
on them mainly depends her future redemption. 

Cloths were passed around, the tables wiped off, and prep- 
arations made to sing the Landsfather, or consecration song. 
This is one of the most important and solemn of their cere- 
monies, since by performing it the new students are made 
burschen and the bands of brotherhood continually kept 
fresh and sacred. All became still a moment ; then they 
commenced the lofty song: 

" Silent bending, eacli one lending 
To the solemn tones iiis ear. 
Hark ! the song of songs is sounding — 
Back from joyful choir resounding. 
Hear it, German brothers, hear I 

"German, proudly raise it loudly, 
Singing of your Fatherland. — 
Fatherland, thou land of story, 
To the altars of thy glory 

Consecrate us, sword in hand I 

" Take the beaker, pleasure-seeker, 

With thy country's drink brimmed o'er I 

In thy left the sword is blinking ; 

Pierce it through the cap while drinking 
To thy Fatherland once more !" 

With the first line of the last stanza, the presidents, sit- 
ting at the head of the table, take their glasses in their 



TPIE LANDSFATHEK. 105 

right hands, and at the third line the sword in their left, at 
the end striking their glasses together and drinking : 

"In left hand gleaming, thou art beaming, 

Sword from all dishonor free ! 
Thus I pierce the cap, while swearing, 
It in honor ever wearing, 

I a valiant Bursch will be I" 

They clash their swords together till the third line is sung, 
when each takes his cap, and, piercing the point of the 
sword through the crown, draws it down to the guard. 
Leaving their caps on the swords, the presidents stand be- 
hind the two next students, who go through the same cere- 
mony, receiving the swords at the appropriate time and 
giving them back loaded with their caps also. This ceremony 
is going on at every table at the same time. These two 
stanzas are repeated for every pair of students, till all have 
gone through with it and the presidents have arrived at the 
bottom of the table with their swords strung full of caps. 
Here they exchange swords, while all sing : 

" Come, thou bright sword, now made holy, 

Of free men the weapon free ; 
Bring it solemnly and slowly, 

Heavy with pieiced caps, to me. 
From its burden now divest it ; 

Brothers, be ye covered all. 

And till our next festival 
Hallowed and unspotted rest it ! 

"Up, ye feast-companions ! ever 

Honor ye our holy band, 
And with heart and soul endeavor 

E'er as high-souled men to stand. 
Up to feast, ye men united ! 

Worthy be your fathers' fame, 

And the sword may no one claim 
Who to honor is not plighted !" 

Then each president, taking a cap off his sword, reached it 



106 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

to the student opposite, and they crossed their swords, the 
ends resting on the two students' heads, while they sang the 
next stanza : 

" So take it back ; thy head I now will cover 

And stretch the bright sword over. 
Live also then this Bursche. Hoch ! 

Wherever we may meet him, 

Will we as brother greet him. 
Live also this our brother. Hoch !" 

This ceremony was repeated till all the caps were given 
back, and they then conclu^ded with the following : 

" Eest 1 The Burschen-feast is over, 

Hallowed sword, and thou art free ! 
Each one strive a valiant lover 

Of his Fatherland to be ! 
Hail to him who, glory-haunted. 

Follows still his fathers bold. 

And the sword may no one hold 
But the noble and undaunted !" 

The Landsfather being over, the students were less 
orderly ; the smoking and drinking began again, and we 
left, as it was already eleven o'clock, glad to breathe the 
pure cold air. 

In the university I heard Gervinus, who was formerly 
professor in Gottingen, but was obliged to leave on account 
of his liberal principles. He is much liked by the stu- 
dents, and his lectures are very well attended. They had 
this winter a torchlight procession in honor of him. He is 
a stout, round-faced man, speaks very fast, and makes them 
laugh continually with his witty remarks. In the room I 
saw a son of Riickert, the poet, with a face strikingly like 
his father's. The next evening I went to hear Schlosser, 
the great historian. Among his pupils are the two princes 
of Baden, who are now at the university. He came hur- 



'A DUEL. 107 

riedly in, tlirew down his portfolio and began instantly to 
speak. He is an old, gray-headed man, but still active and 
full of energy. The Germans find him exceedingly diffi- 
cult to understand, as he is said to use the English con- 
struction almost entirely ; for this reason, perhaps, I under- 
stood him quite easily. He lectures on the French Revolu- 
tion, but is engaged in writing a universal history, the first 
numbers of which are published. 

Two or three days after, we heard that a duel was to take 

place at Neuenheim, on the opposite side of the Neckar, 

where the students have a house hired for that purpose. In 

order to witness the spectacle, we started immediately with 

two or three students. Along the road were stationed old 

women, at intervals, as guards, to give notice of the approach 

of the police, and from these we learned that one duel had 

already been fought and they were preparing for the other. 

The Red Fisherman was busy in an outer room grinding 

the swords, which are made as sharp as razors. In the large 

room some forty or fifty students were walking about while 

the parties were preparing. This was done by taking off 

the coat and vest and binding a great thick leather garment 

on, which reached from the breast to the knees, completely 

protecting the body. They then put on a leather glove 

reaching nearly to the shoulder, tied a thick cravat around 

the throat, and drew on a cap with a large vizor. This done, 

they were walked about the room a short time, the seconds 

holding out their arms to strengthen them ; their faces all this 

time betrayed considerable anxiety. All being ready, the 

seconds took their stations immediately behind them, each 

armed with a sword, and gave the words : " Ready ! Bind 

vour weapons ! Loose ! " They instantly sprang at each 

other, exchanged two or three blows, when the seconds cried 

" Halt !" and struck their swords up. Twenty-four rounds 

of this kind ended the duel without either being hurt, though 

the cap of one of them was cut through and his forehead 

grazed. All their d-uels do not end so fortunately, however, 



108 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

as the frightful scars on the faces of many of those present 
testified. 

It is a gratification to know that but a small portion of 
the students keep up this barbarous custom. The great 
body is opposed to it ; in Heidelberg four societies, compris- 
ing more than one-half the students, have been formed against 
it. A strong desire for such a reform seems to prevail, and 
the custom will probably be totally discontinued in a short 
time. 

This view of the student-life was very interesting to me ; 
it appeared in a much better light than I had been accus- 
tomed to view it. Their peculiar customs, except duelling 
and drinking, of course, may be the better tolerated when 
we consider their efiect on the liberty of Germany. It is 
principally through them that a free spirit is kept alive ; 
they have ever been foremost to rise up for their fatherland 
and bravest in its defence. And, though many of their cus- 
toms have so often been held up to ridicule, among no other 
class can one find warmer, truer or braver hearts. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

CHKISTMAS AND NEW YEAR IN GERMANY. 

Januaby 2, 1845. 
I HAVE lately been computing how much my travels have 
cost me up to the present time, and how long I can remain 
abroad to continue the pilgrimage, with my present expec- 
tations. The result has been most encouraging to my plan. 
Before leaving home I wrote to several gentlemen who had 
visited Europe, requesting the probable expense of travel 
and residence abroad. They sent diflerent accounts. E. 
Joy Morris said I must calculate to spend at least fifteen 
hundred dollars a year ; another suggested a thousand dol- 



CHEISTMAS. 109 

lars, and the most moderate of all said tliat it was impossi- 
ble to live in Europe a year on less than five hundred dol- 
lars. Now, six months have elapsed since I left home- 
six months of greater pleasure and profit than any year 
of my former life — and my expenses in full amount to 
one hundred and thirty dollars. This, however, nearly 
exhausts the limited sum with which I started, but through 
the kindness of the editorial friends who have been pub- 
lishing my sketches of travel I trust to receive a remittance 
shortly. Printing is a business attended with so little profit 
here, as there are already so many workmen, that it is al- 
most useless for a stranger to apply. Besides, after a tough 
grapple I am just beginning to master the language, and 
it seems so necessary to devote every minute to study that 
I would rather undergo some privation than neglect turnmg 
these fleeting hours into gold for the miser Memory to stow 
away in the treasure-vaults of the mind. 

We have lately witnessed the most beautiful and interest- 
ing of all German festivals— Christmas. This is here pe- 
culiarly celebrated. About the commencement of Decem- 
ber the Christmarkt, or fair, was opened in the Romerberg, 
and has continued to the present time. The booths, deco- 
rated with green boughs, were filled with toys of various 
kinds, among which during the first days the figure of St. 
Nicholas was conspicuous. There were bunches of wax 
candles to illuminate the Christmas tree, gingerbread with 
printed mottoes in poetry, beautiful little earthenware, bas- 
ket-work and a wilderness of playthings. The 5th of De- 
cember, being Nicholas evening, the booths were lighted 
up, and the square was filled with boys running from one 
stand to another, all shouting and talking together in the 
most joyous confusion. Nurses were going around carrying 
the smaller children in their arms, and parents bought pres- 
ents decorated with sprigs of pine and carried them away. 
Some of the shops had beautiful toys— as, for instance, a 
whole grocery store in miniature, with barrels, boxes and 



no VIEWS A-FOOT. 

drawers all filled with sweetmeats, a kitchen with a stove 
and all suitable utensils which could really be used, and 
sets of dishes of the most diminutive patterns. All was a 
scene of activity and joyous feeling. 

Many of the tables had bundles of rods with gilded 
bands, which were to be used that evening by the persons 
who represented St. Nicholas. In the family with whom 
we reside one of our German friends dressed himself very 
comically with a mask, fur robe and long tapering cap. He 
came in with a bunch of rods and a sack, and a broom 
for a sceptre. After we all had received our share of the 
beating he threw the contents of his bag on the table, and 
while we were scrambling for the nuts and apples gave us 
many smart raps over the fingers. In many families the 
children are made to say, " I thank you, Herr Nicolaus," 
and the rods are hung up in the room till Christmas to keep 
them in good behavior. This was only a forerunner of the 
Christ-kindchen's coming. The Nicolaus is the punishing 
spirit; the Christ-kindchen, the rewarding one. 

When this time was over, we all began preparing secretly 
our presents for Christmas. Every day there were consul- 
tations about the things which should be obtained. It was 
so arranged that all should interchange presents, but nobody 
must know beforehand what he would receive. What pleas- 
ure there was in all these secret purchases and preparations ! 
Scarcely anything was thought or spoken of but Christmas, 
and every day the consultations became more numerous and 
secret. The trees were bought some time beforehand, but, 
as we were to witness the festival for the first time, we were 
not allowed to see them prepared, in order that the efiect 
might be as great as possible. The market in the Romer- 
berg Square grew constantly larger and more brilliant. 
Every night it was lit up with lamps and thronged with 
people. Quite a forest sprang up in the street before our 
door. The old stone house opposite with the traces of so 
many centuries on its dark face seemed to stand in the midst 



THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Ill 

of a garden. It was a pleasure to go out every evening and 
see the children rushing to and fro, shouting and seeking 
out toys from the booths, and talking all the time of the 
Christmas that was so near. The poor people went by with 
their little presents hid under their cloaks lest their children 
might see them; every heart was glad and every counte- 
nance wore a smile of secret pleasure. 

Finally the day before Christmas arrived. The streets 
were so full I could scarce make my way through, and the 
sale of trees went on more rapidly than ever. These were 
commonly branches of pine or fir set upright in a little 
miniature garden of moss. When the lamps were lighted 
at night, our street had the appearance of an illuminated 
garden. We were prohibited from entering the rooms up 
stairs in which the grand ceremony was to take place, being 
obliged to take our seats in those arranged for the guests, 
and wait with impatience the hour when Christ-kindchen 
should call. Several relations of the family came, and, 
what was more agreeable, they brought with them five or 
six children. I was anxious to see how they would view 
the ceremony. 

Finally, in the middle of an interesting conversation, we 
heard the bell ringing up stairs. We all started up and 
made for the door. I ran up the steps with the children at 
my heels, and at the top met a blaze of light coming from 
the open door that dazzled me. In each room stood a great 
table on which the presents were arranged amid flowers and 
wreaths. From the centre rose the beautiful Christmas 
tree, covered with wax tapers to the very top, which made 
it nearly as light as day, while every bough was hung with 
sweetmeats and gilded nuts. The children ran shouting 
around the table, hunting their presents, while the older 
persons had theirs pointed out to them. I had quite a little 
library of German authors as my share, and many of the 
others received quite valuable gifts. But how beautiful 
was the heartfelt joy that shone on every countenance ! As 



112 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

each one discovered he embraced the givers, and all was a 
scene of the purest feelings. It is a glorious feast, this 
Christmas-time. What a chorus from happy hearts went 
up on that evening to Heaven ! Full of poetry and feeling 
and glad associations, it is here anticipated with joy and 
leaves a pleasant memory behind it. We may laugh at 
such simple festivals at home and prefer to shake ourselves 
loose from every shackle that bears the rust of the past, but 
we would certainly be happier if some of these beautiful old 
customs were better honored. They renew the bond of 
feeling between families and friends and strengthen their 
kindly sympathy ; even lifelong friends require occasions 
of this kind to freshen the wreath that binds them together. 

New Year's eve is also favored with a peculiar celebra- 
tion in Germany. Everybody remains up and makes him- 
self merry till midnight. The Christmas trees are again 
lighted, and while the tapers are burning down the family 
play for articles which they have purchased and hung on 
the boughs. It is so arranged that each one shall win as 
much as he gives, which change of articles makes much 
amusement. One of the ladies rejoiced in the possession of 
a red silk handkerchief and a cake of soap, while a cup and 
saucer and a pair of scissors fell to my lot. As midnight 
drew near it was louder in the streets, and companies of 
people, some of them singing in chorus, passed by on their 
way to the Zeil. Finally three-quarters struck, the windows 
were opened and every one waited anxiously for the clock 
to strike. At the first sound such a cry arose as one may 
imagine when thirty or forty thousand persons all set their 
lungs going at once. Everybody in the house, in the street, 
over the whole city, shouted "Prosst Neii Jahr !" In fam- 
ilies all the members embrace each other, with wishes of 
happiness for the new year. Then the windows are thrown 
open, and they cry to their neighbors or those passing by. 

After we had exchanged congratulations, Dennett, B 

and I set out for the Zeil. The streets were full of people, 



NEW YEAR'S EVE. 113 

shouting to one another and to those standing at the open 
windows. We failed not to cry, "Frosst Neu Jahr .'" wher- 
ever we saw a damsel at the window, and the words came 
back to us more musically than we sent them. Along the 
Zeil the spectacle was most singular. The great wide street 
was filled with companies of men marching up and down, 
while from the mass rang up one deafening, unending shout 
that seemed to pierce the black sky above. The whole 
scene looked stranger and wilder from the flickering light 
of the swinging lamps, and I could not help thinking it 
must resemble a night in Paris during the French Revolu- 
tion. We joined the crowd and used our lungs as well as 
any of them. For some time after we returned home com- 
panies passed by singing " With us 'tis ever so !" but at 
three o'clock all was again silent. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



WINTER IN FRANKFORT. — A FAIR, AN INUNDATION AND 

A FIRE. 

After New Year, the Main, just above the city, and the 
lakes in the promenades were frozen over. The ice was 
tried by the police, and, having been found of sufiicient 
thickness, to the great joy of the schoolboys, permission 
was given to skate. The lakes were soon covered with 
merry skaters, and every afternoon the banks were crowded 
with spectators. It was a lively sight to see two or three 
hundred persons darting about, turning and crossing like a 
flock of crows, while by means of arm-chairs mounted on 
runners the ladies were enabled to join in the sport and 
whirl around among them. Some of the broad meadows 
near the city which- were covered with water were the re- 
8 



114 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

sort of the schools. I went there often in my walks, and 
always found two or three schools, with the teachers, all 
skating together and playing their winter games on the ice. 
I have often seen them on the meadows along the Main ; 
the teachers generally made quite as much noise as the 
scholars in their sports. 

In the art-institute I saw the picture of " Huss before the 
Council of Constance," by the painter Lessing. It contains 
upward of twenty figures. The artist has shown the great- 
est skill in the expression and grouping of these. Bishops 
and cardinals in their splendid robes are seated around a 
table covered with parchment folios, and before them stands 
Huss alone. His face pale and thin with long imprison- 
ment, he has lain one hand on his breast, while with the 
other he has grasped one of the volumes on the table ; there 
is an air of majesty, of heavenly serenity, on his lofty fore- 
head and calm eye. One feels instinctively that he has 
truth on his side. There can be no deception, no falsehood, 
in those noble features. The three Italian cardinals before 
him appear to be full of passionate rage ; the bishop in front, 
who holds the imperial pass given to Huss, looks on with an 
expression of scorn, and the priests around have an air of 
mingled curiosity and hatred. There is one, however, in 
whose mild features and tearful eye is expressed sympathy 
and pity for the prisoner. It is said this picture has had 
a great effect upon Catholics who have seen it, in softening 
the bigotry with which they regarded the early Reformers ; 
and if so, it is a triumphant proof how much Art can effect 
in the cause of truth and humanity. 

I was much interested in a cast of the statue of St. 
George by the old Italian sculptor Donatello. It is a figure 
full of youth and energy, with a countenance that seems to 
breathe. Donatello was the teacher of Michael Angelo ; 
and when the young sculptor was about setting off for 
Rome, he showed him the statue, his favorite work. 
Michael gazed at it long and intensely, and at length, on 



THE ESCHEENHEIM TOWEK. 115 

parting, said to Donatello, " It v/ants but one thing." The 
artist pondered long over this expression, for he could not 
imagine in what could fail the matchless figure. At length, 
after many years, Michael Angelo, in the noon of his re- 
nown, visited the death-bed of his old master. Donatello 
begged to know before he died what was wanting to his St. 
George. Angelo answered, " The gift of speech," and a 
smile of triumph lighted the old man's face as he closed his 
eyes for ever. 

The Eschernheim Tower, at the entrance of one of the 
city gates, is universally admired by strangers on account of 
its picturesque appearance, overgrown with ivy and termi- 
nated by the little pointed turrets which one sees so often 
in Germany on buildings three or four centuries old. 
There are five other watch-towers of similar form, which 
stand on diflferent sides of the city at the distance of a mile 
or two, and generally upon an eminence overlooking the 
country. They were erected several centuries ago to dis- 
cern from afar the approach of an enemy, and protect the 
caravans of merchants which at that time travelled from 
city to city from the attacks of robbers. The Eschernheim 
Tower is interesting from another circumstance which, 
whether true or not, is universally believed. When Frank- 
fort was under the sway of a prince, a Swiss hunter, for 
some civil ofiTence, was condemned to die. He begged his 
life from the prince, who granted it only on condition that 
he should fire the figure nine with his rifle through the 
vane of this tower. He agreed, and did it; and at the 
present time one can distinguish a rude nine on the vane, 
as if cut with bullets, while two or three marks at the side 
appear to be from shots that failed. 

The promise of spring which lately visited us was not 
destined for fulfilment. Shortly afterward it grew cold 
again, with a succession of snows and sharp northerly 
winds. Such weather at the commencement of spring is 
not uncommon at home ; but here they say there has not 



116 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

been such a winter known for one hundred and fifty years. 
In the North of Prussia many persons have been starved 
to death on account of provisions becoming scarce. Among 
the Hartz, also, the suffering is very great. We saw some- 
thing of the misery even here. It was painful to walk 
through the streets and see so many faces bearing plainly 
the marks of want, so many pale, hollow-eyed creatures 
with suffering written on every feature. We were assailed 
with petitions for help which could not be relieved, though 
it pained and saddened the heart to deny. The women, 
too, labor like brutes day after day. Many of them ap- 
pear cheerful and contented, and are, no doubt, tolerably 
happy, for the Germans have all true, warm hearts and are 
faithful to one another as far as poverty will permit ; but 
one cannot see old, gray-headed women carrying loads on 
their heads as heavy as themselves, exposed to all kinds of 
weather and working from morning till night, without pity 
and indignation. 

So unusually severe has been the weather that the deer 
and hares in the mountains near came nearly starved and 
tamed down by hunger into the villages to hunt food. The 
people fed them every day, and also carried grain into the 
fields for the partridges and pheasants, who flew up to them 
like domestic fowls. The poor ravens made me really 
sorry ; some lay dead in the fields and many came into the 
city perfectly tame, flying along the Main with wings 
hardly strong enough to bear up their skeleton bodies. 
The storks came at the usual time, but went back again. 
I hope the year's blessing has not departed with them, ac- 
cording to the old German superstition. 

March 26. 

We have hopes of spring at last. Three days ago the 
rain began, and has continued with little intermission till 
now. The air is warm, the snow goes fast, and everything 
seems to announce that the long winter is breaking up. 
The Main rises fast and goes by the city like an arrow, 



FKANKFOKT FAIR 117 

whirling large masses of ice upon the banks. The hills 
around are coming out from under the snow, and the lilac- 
buds in the promenades begin to expand for the second 
time. 

The fair has now commenced in earnest, and it is a most 
singular and interesting sight. The open squares are filled 
with booths, leaving narrow streets between them, across 
which canvas is spread. Every booth is open and filled 
with a dazzling display of wares of all kinds. Merchants 
assemble from all parts of Europe. The Bohemians come 
with their gorgeous crystal ware ; the Nurembergers, with 
their toys, quaint and fanciful as the old city itself; men 
from the Thiiringian Forest, with minerals and canes ; and 
traders from Berlin, Vienna, Paris and Switzerland, with 
dry goods and wares of 5]' .kinds. Near the exchange are 
two or three companies of Tyrolese who attract much of 
my attention. Their costume is exceedingly picturesque. 
The men have all splendid manly figures, and honor and 
bravery are written on their countenances. One of the 
girls is a really handsome mountain-maiden, and, with her 
pointed, broad-brimmed black hat, as romantic-looking as one 
could desire. The musicians have arrived, and we are en- 
tertained the whole day long by wandering bands, some of 
whom play finely. The best, which is also the favorite 
company, is from Saxony, called "The Mountain-Boys." 
They are now playing in our street, and while I write one 
of the beautiful choruses from Norma comes up through 
the din of the crowd. In fact, music is heard over the whole 
city, and the throngs that fill every street with all sorts of 
faces and dresses somewhat relieve the monotony that was 
beginning to make Frankfort tiresome. 

We have an ever-varied and interesting scene from our 
window. Besides the motley crowd of passers-by, there are 
booths and tables stationed thick below. One man in par- 
ticular is busily engaged in selling his store of blacking in 
the auction style in a manner that would do credit to a real 



118 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Down-Easter. He has flaming certificates exhibited, and 

prefaces his calls to buy with a high-sounding description 

of its wonderful qualities. He has a bench in front, where 

he tests it on the shoes of his customers ; or if none of 

these are disposed to try it, he rubs it on his own, which 

shine like mirrors. So he rattles on with amazing fluency 

in French, German and Italian, and this, with his black 

beard and moustache and his polite, graceful manner, keeps 

a crowd of customers around him ; so that the wonderful 

blacking goes ofi" as fast as he can supply it. 

April 6. 

Old Winter's gates are shut close behind us, and the sun 
looks down with his summer countenance. The air, after 
the long cold rain, is like that of Paradise. All things are 
gay and bright, and everybody is in motion. Spring com- 
menced with yesterday in earnest, and, lo ! before night the 
roads were all dry and fine as if there had been no rain for 
a month, and the gardeners dug and planted in ground 
which eight days before was covered with snow. 

After having lived through the longest winter here for 
one hundred and fifty years, we were destined to witness the 
greatest flood for sixty, and little lower than any within the 
last three hundred, years. On the 28th of March the river 
overflooded the high pier along the Main, and, rising higher 
and higher, began to come into the gates and alleys. Before 
night the whole bank was covered and the water intruded 
into some of the booths in the Romerberg. When I went 
there the next morning, it was a sorrowful sight. Persons 
were inside the gate with boats ; so rapidly had it risen that 
many of the merchants had no time to move their wares, 
and must suffer great damage. They were busy rescuing 
what property could be seized in the haste, and construct- 
ing passages into the houses which were surrounded. No 
one seemed to think of buying or selling, but only on the 
best method to escape the danger. Along the Main it was 
still worse. From the measure, it had risen seventeen feet 



FLOODED OUT. 119 

above its usual level, and the arches of the bridge were filled 
nearly to the top. At the Upper-Main gate everything was 
flooded— houses, gardens, workshops, etc.; the water had 
even overrun the meadows above and attacked the city from 
behind, so that a part of the beautiful promenades lay deep 
under water. On the other side we could see houses stand- 
ing in it up to the roof. It came up through the sewers 
into the middle of Frankfort. A large body of men were 
kept at work constructing slight bridges to walk on and 
transporting boats to places where they were needed. This 
was all done at the expense of the city ; the greatest readi- 
ness was everywhere manifested to render all possible assist- 
ance. In the Fischergasse I saw them taking provisions to 
the people in boats ; one man even fastened a loaf of bread 
to the end of a broomstick and reached it across the narrow 
street from an upper-story window to the neighbor opposite. 
News came that Hansen, a village toward the Taunus, about 
two miles distant, was quite under water, and that the peo- 
ple clung to the roofs and cried for help ; but it was for- 
tunately false. About noon cannon-shots were heard, and 
twenty boats were sent out from the city. 

In the afternoon I ascended the tower of the cathedral, 
which commands a wide view of the valley, up and down. 
Just above the city the whole plain was like a small lake 
between two and three miles wide. A row of new-built 
houses stretched into it like a long promontory, and ni the 
middle, like an island, stood a country-seat with large out- 
buildings. The river sent a long arm out below, that reached 
up through the meadows behind the city, as if to clasp it 
all and bear it away together. A heavy storm was raging 
along the whole extent of the Taunus, but a rainbow stood 
in the eastern' sky. I thought of its promise and hoped, for 
the sake of the hundreds of poor people who were suffering 
by the waters, that it might herald their fall. 

We afterward went over to Sachsenhausen, which was, if 
possible, in a still more unfortunate condition. The water 



120 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

had penetrated the passages and sewers, and from these 
leaped and rushed up into the streets as out of a fountain. 
The houses next to the Main, which were first filled, poured 
torrents out of the doors and windows into the street below. 
These people were nearly all poor, and could ill afford the 
loss of time and damage of property it occasioned them. 
The stream was filled with wood and boards, and even whole 
roofs with the tiles on went floating down. The bridge was 
crowded with people ; one saw everywhere mournful coun- 
tenances and heard lamentations over the catastrophe. 
After sunset a great cloud filling half the sky hung above ; 
the reflection of its glowing crimson tint, joined to the brown 
hue of the water, made it seem like a river of fire. 

What a difference a little sunshine makes ! I could have 
forgotten the season the next day but for the bare trees and 
swelling Main as I threaded my way through the hundreds 
of people who thronged its banks. It was that soft warmth 
that comes with the first spring days, relaxing the body and 
casting a dreamy hue over the mind. I leaned over the 
bridge in the full enjoyment of it, and, listening to the roar- 
ing of the water under the arches, forgot everything else for 
a time. It was amusing to walk up and down the pier and 
look at the countenances passing by, while the fantasy was' 
ever ready, weaving a tale for all. My favorite Tyrolese 
were there, and I saw a Greek leaning over the stone balus- 
trade wearing the red cap and white frock, and with the 
long dark hair and fiery eye of the Orient. I could not but 
wonder, as he looked at the dim hills of the Odenwald along 
the eastern horizon, whether they called up in his mind the 
purple isles of his native archipelago. 

The general character of a nation is plainly stamped on 
the countenances of its people. One who notices the faces 
in the streets can soon distinguish by the glance he gives in 
going by the Englishman or the Frenchman from the Ger- 
man, and the Christian from the Jew. Not less striking is 
the difference of expression between the Germans them- 



NATIONAL CHAKACTEEISTICS. 121 

selves, and in places where all classes of people are drawn 
together it is interesting to observe how accurately these 
distinctions are drawn. The boys have generally handsome, 
intelligent faces, and, like all boys, they are full of life and 
spirit, for they know nothing of the laws by which their 
country is chained down, and would not care for them if 
they did. But, with the exception of the students — who 
talk, at least, of liberty and right — the young men lose this 
spirit and at last settle down into the calm, cautious, leth- 
argic citizen. One distinguishes an Englishman, and I 
should think an American also, in this respect, very easily; 
the former, moreover, by a certain cold stateliness and re- 
serve. There is something, however, about a Jew, whether 
English or German, which marks him from all others. 
However different their faces, there is a family character 
which runs through the whole of them. It lays principally 
in their high cheek-bones, prominent nose and thin, com- 
pressed lips, which, especially in elderly men, gives a pecu- 
liar miserly expression that is unmistakable. 

I regret to say one looks almost in vain in Germany for 
a handsome female countenance. Here and there, perhaj)s, 
is a woman with regular features, but that intellectual ex- 
pression which gives such a charm to the most common face 
is wanting. I have seen more beautiful women in one night 
in a public assembly in America than during the seven 
months I have been on the Continent. Some of the young 
Jewesses in Frankfort are considered handsome, but their 
features soon become too strongly marked. In a public 
walk the number of positively ugly faces is really aston- 
ishing. 

About ten o'clock that night I heard a noise of persons 
running in the street, and, going to the Romerberg, found 
the water had risen all at once much higher, and was still 
rapidly increasing. People were setting up torches and 
lengthening the rafts which had been already formed. The 
lower part of the city was a real Venice. The streets were 



122 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

full of boats, and people could even row about in their own 
houses, though it was not quite so bad as the flood in Geor- 
gia, where they went up stairs to bed in boats. I went to 
the bridge. Persons were calling around, " The water ! the 
water ! It rises continually !" The river rushed through 
the arches, foaming and dashing with a noise' like thunder, 
and the red light of the torches along the shore cast a flick- 
ering glare on the troubled waves. It was then twenty-one 
feet above its usual level. Men w^ere busy all around car- 
rying boats and ladders to the places most threatened or 
emptying cellars into which it was penetrating. The sud- 
den swelling was occasioned by the coming down of the 
floods from the mountains of Spessart. 

Part of the upper quay cracked next morning and threat- 
ened to fall in, and one of the projecting piers of the bridge 
sunk away from the main body three or four inches. In 
Sachsenhausen the desolation occasioned by the flood is ab- 
solutely frightful ; several houses have fallen into total ruin. 
All business was stopped for the day ; the exchange was 
even shut up. As the city depends almost entirely on 
pumps for its supply of water, and these were filled with 
the flood, we have been drinking the muddy current of the 
Main ever since. The damage to goods is very great. The 
fair was stopped at once, and the loss in this respect alone 
must be several millions of florins. The water began to 
fall on the 1st, and has now sunk about ten feet; so that 
most of the houses are again released, though in a bad con- 
dition. 

Yesterday afternoon, as I was sitting in my room writing, 
I heard all at once an explosion like a cannon in the street, 
followed by loud and continued screams. Looking out the 
window, I saw the people rushing by with goods in their 
arms, some wringing their hands and crying, others running 
in all directions. Imagining that it was nothing less than 
the tumbling down of one of the old houses, we ran down 
and saw a store a few doors distant in flames. The windows 



WOEK FOE THE FIEEMEN. 123 

were bursting and flying out, and the mingled mass of 
smoke and red flame reached halfway across the street. We 
learned afterward it was occasioned by the explosion of a 
jar of naphtha, which instantly enveloped the whole room 
in fire, the people barely escaping in time. The persons 
who had booths near were standing still in despair while 
the flames were beginning to touch their property. A few 
butchers who first came up did almost everything. A fire- 
engine arrived soon, but it was ten minutes before it began 
to play, and by that time the flames were coming out of 
the upper stories. Then the supply of water soon failed, 
and, though another engine came up shortly after, it was 
some time before it could be put in order ; so that by the 
time they got fairly to work the fire had made its way 
nearly through the house. The water was first brought in 
barrels drawn by horses, till some ofiicer came and opened 
the fire-plug. The police were busy at work seizing those 
who came by and setting them to work, and, as the alarm 
had drawn a great many together, they at last began to 
effect something. All the military are obliged to be out, 
and the oflS^cers appeared eager to use their authority while 
they could ; for every one was ordering and commanding, 
till all was a scene of perfect confusion and uproar. I could 
not help laughing heartily, so ludicrous did the scene ap- 
pear. There were little miserable engines not much bigger 
than a hand-cart and looking as if they had not been used 
for half a century, the horses running backward and for- 
w^ard, dragging barrels which were emptied into tubs, after 
which the water was finally dipped up in buckets and emp- 
tied into the engines. These machines can only play into 
the second or third story, after which the hose was taken 
up in the houses on the opposite side of the street and made 
to play across. After four hours the fire was overcome, the 
bouse being thoroughly burnt out ; it happened to have 
double fire-walls, which prevented those adjoining from 
catching easily. 



124 VIEWS A-FOOT. 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE DEAD AND THE DEAF. — MENDELSSOHN THE COM- 
POSER. 

It is now a luxury to breathe. These sj)ring days are the 
perfection of delightful weather. Imagine the delicious 
temperature of our Indian summer joined to the life and 
freshness of spring, add to this a sky of the purest azure and 
a breeze filled with the odor of violets — the most exquisite of 
all perfumes — and you have some idea of it. The meadows 
are beginning to bloom, and I have already heard the larks 
singing high up in the sky. Those sacred birds the storks 
have returned and taken possession of their old nests on the 
chimney-tops ; they are sometimes seen walking about in 
the fields with a very grave and serious air, as if conscious 
of the estimation in which they are held. Everybody is 
out in the open air ; the woods, although they still look 
wintry, are filled with people, and the boatmen on the Main 
are busy ferrying gay parties across. The spring has been 
so long in coming that all are determined to enjoy it well 
while it lasts. 

We visited the cemetery a few days ago. The dead-house, 
where corpses are placed in the hope of resuscitation, is an 
appendage to cemeteries found only in Germany. We were 
sliown into a narrow chamber on each side of which were 
six cells into which one could distinctly see by means of a 
large plate of glass. In each of these is a bier for the body, 
directly above which hangs a cord having on the end ten 
thimbles, which are j^ut upon the fingers of the corpse ; so 
that the slightest motion strikes a bell in the watchman's 
room. Lamps are lighted at night, and in winter the rooms 
are warmed. In the watchman's chamber stands a clock 
with a dial-plate of twenty-four hours, and opposite every 
hour is a little plate which can only be moved two minutes 



MONUMENTS TO THE DEAD. 125 

before it strikes. If, then, the watchman has slept or neg- 
lected his duty at that time he cannot move it afterward, 
and his neglect is. seen by the superintendent. In such a 
case he is severely fined, and for the second or third offence 
dismissed. There are other rooms adjoining, containing 
beds, baths, galvanic battery, etc. Nevertheless, they say 
there has been no resuscitation during the fifteen years it 
has been established. 

We afterward went to the end of the cemetery to see the 
bas-reliefs of Thorwaldsen in the vault of the Bethmann 
family. They are three in number, representing the death 
of a son of the present banker, Moritz von Bethmann, who 
was drowned in the Arno about fourteen years ago. The 
middle one represents the young man drooping in his chair, 
the beautiful Greek Angel of Death standing at his back 
with one arm over his shoulder, while his younger brother 
is sustaining him and receiving the wreath that drops from 
his sinking hand. The young woman who showed us these 
told us of Thorwaldsen's visit to Frankfort about three 
years ago. She described him as a beautiful and venerable 
old man with long white locks hanging over his shoulders, 
still vigorous and active for his years. There seems to have 
been much resemblance between him and Dannecker— not 
only in personal appearance and character, but in the sim- 
ple and classical beauty of their works. 

The cemetery contains many other monuments ; with the 
exception of one or two by Launitz and an exquisite Death- 
Angel in sandstone from a young Frankfort sculptor, they 
are not remarkable. The common tombstone is a white 
wooden cross; opposite the entrance is a perfect forest of 
them, involuntarily reminding one of a company of ghosts 
with outstretched arms. These contain the names of the 
deceased, with mottoes, some of which are beautiful and 
touching ; as, for instance, " Through darkness unto Hght ;" 
" Weep not for her ; she is not dead, but sleepeth ;" ^ " Slum- 
ber sweet !" etc. The graves are neatly bordered with grass 



126 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

and planted with flowers, and many of the crosses hav« 
withered wreaths hanging upon them. In summer it is a 
beautiful place ; in fact, the very name of cemetery in Ger- 
man — 'friedhof, or " court of peace " — takes away the idea 
of death ; the beautiful figure of the youth with his inverted 
torch makes one think of the grave only as a place of re- 
pose. 

On our way back we stopped at the institute for the deaf; 
for by the new method of teaching they are no longer dumb. 
It is a handsome building in the gardens skirting the city. 
We applied, and, on learning we were strangers, they gave 
us permission to enter. On finding we were Americans, 
the instructress immediately spoke of Dr. Howe, who had 
visited the institute a year or two before, and was much 
pleased to find that Mr. Dennett was acquainted with him. 
Sh6 took us into a room where about fifteen small children 
were assembled, and, addressing one of the girls, said in a 
distinct tone, " These gentlemen are from America. The 
deaf children there speak with their fingers ; canst thou 
speak so ?" To which the child answered distinctly, but 
with some efibrt : " No ; we speak with our mouths." She 
then spoke to several others with the same success ; one of 
the boys in particular articulated with astonishing success. 
It was interesting to watch their countenances, which were 
alive with eager attention, and to see the apparent efibrts 
they made to utter the words. They spoke in a monotonous 
tone, slowly and deliberately, but their voices had a strange 
sepulchral sound which was at first unpleasant to the ear. 
I put one or two questions to a little boy, which he answered 
quite readily ; as I was a foreigner, this was the best test 
that could be given of the success of the method. We con- 
versed afterward with the director, who received us kindly 
and appointed a day for us to come and witness the system 
more fully. He spoke of Dr. Howe and Horace Mann of 
Boston, and seemed to take a great interest in the introduc- 
tion of his system in America. 



A DEAF SCULPTOR. 127 

We went again at the appointed time, and, as their draw- 
ing-teacher was there, we had an opportunity of looking 
over their sketches, which were excellent. The director 
showed us the manner of teaching them with a looking-glass 
in which they were shown the different positions of the or- 
gans of the mouth, and afterward made to feel the vibra- 
tions of the throat and breast produced by the sound. He 
took one of the youngest scholars, covered her eyes, and, 
placing her hand upon his throat, articulated the second 
sound of a. She followed him, making the sound softer or 
louder as he did. All the consonants were made distinctly 
by placing her hand before his mouth. Their exercises in 
reading, speaking with one another, and writing from dic- 
tation succeeded perfectly. He treated them all like his 
own children, and sought by jesting and playing to make 
the exercise Appear as sport. They call him " father " and 
appear to be much attached to him. 

One of the pupils, about fourteen years old, interested 
me through his history. He and his sister were found in 
Sachsenhausen, by a Frankfort merchant, in a horrible con- 
dition. Their mother had died about two years and a half 
before, and during all that time their father had neglected 
them till they were near dead through privation and filth. 
The boy was placed in this institute, and the girl in that of 
the orphans. He soon began to show a talent for model- 
ling figures, and for some time he has been taking lessons 
of the sculptor Launitz. I saw a beautiful copy of a bas- 
relief of Thorwaldsen which he made, as well as an origi- 
nal very interesting from its illustration of his history. It 
was in two parts. The first represented himself and his 
sister kneeling in misery before a ruined family-altar by 
which an angel was standing, who took him by one hand, 
while with the other he pointed to his benefactor, standing 
near ; the other represented the two kneeling in gratitude 
before a restored altar on which was the anchor of Hope. 
From above streamed down a light where two angels were 



128 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

rejoicing over their happiness. For a boy of fourteen de- 
prived of one of the most valuable senses and taken from 
such a horrible condition of life it is a surprising work, and 
gives brilliant hopes for his future. 

We went lately into the Romerberg to see the Kaisersaal 
and the other rooms formerly used by the old emperors of 
Germany and their Senates. The former is now in the pro- 
cess of restoration. The ceiling is in the gorgeous illumin- 
ated style of the Middle Ages ; along each side are rows of 
niches for the portraits of the emperors, which have been 
painted by the best artists in Berlin, Dresden, Vienna and 
Munich. It is remarkable that the number of the old 
niches in the hall should exactly correspond with the num- 
ber of the German emperors ; so that the portrait of the 
emperor Francis of Austria, who was the last, will close the 
long rank coming down from Charlemagne. The pictures — 
or, at least, such of them as are already finished — are kept 
in another room ; they give one a good idea of the chang- 
ing styles of royal costumes from the steel shirt and helmet 
to the jewelled diadem and velvet robe. I looked with in- 
terest on a painting of Frederic Barbarossa by Lessing, and 
mused over the popular tradition that he sits with his pala- 
dins in a mountain-cave under the castle of KyfFhauser, 
ready to come forth and assist his fatherland in the hour of 
need. There was the sturdy form of Maximilian, the mar- 
tial Conrad, and Ottos, Siegfrieds and Sigismunds in plenty, 
many of whom moved a nation in their day, but are now 
dust and forgotten. 

I yesterday visited Mendelssohn, the celebrated composer. 
Having heard some of his music this winter, particularly 
that magnificent creation the Walpurgisnacht, I wished to 
obtain his autograph before leaving, and sent a note for 
that purpose. He sent a kind note in answer, adding a 
chorus out of the Walpurgisnacht from his own hand. Af- 
ter this I could not repress the desire of speaking with him. 
He received me with true German cordiality, and on learn- 



MENDELSSOHN. 129 

ing I was an American spoke of having been invited to at- 
tend a musical festival in New York. He invited me to 
call on him if he happened to be in Leipsic or Dresden 
when we should pass through, and spoke particularly of the 
fine music there. I have rarely seen a man whose counte- 
nance bears so plainly the stamp of genius. He has a glo- 
rious dark eye, and Byron's expression of a "dome of 
thought " could never be more appropriately applied than 
to his lofty and intellectual forehead, the marble whiteness 
and polish of which are heightened by the raven hue of his 
hair. He is about forty years of age, in the noon of his 
fame and the full maturity of his genius. Already as a boy 
of fourteen he composed an opera which was played with 
much success at Berlin ; he is now the first living composer 
of Germany. Moses Mendelssohn, the celebrated Jewish 
philosopher, was his grandfather, and his father, now living, 
is accustomed to say that in his youth he was spoken of as 
the son of the great Mendelssohn ; now he is known as the 
father of the great Mendelssohn. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

JOURNEY ON FOOT FROM FRANKFORT TO CASSEL. 

The day for leaving Frankfort came at last, and I bade 
adieu to the gloomy, antique, but still quaint and pleasant 
city. I felt like leaving a second home, so much had the 
memories of many delightful hours spent there attached me 
to it ; I shall long retain the recollection of its dark old 
streets, its massive devil-haunted bridge and the ponderous 
cathedral telling of the times of the crusaders. I toiled up 
the long hill on the road to Friedberg, and from the tower 
at the top took a last look at the distant city with a heart 
heavier than the knapsack whose unaccustomed weight 

9 



130 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

rested uneasily on my shoulders. Being alone — starting out 
into the wide world where as yet I knew no one — I felt 
much deeper what it was to find friends in a strange land. 
But such is the wanderer's lot. 

We had determined on making the complete tour of Ger- 
ftiany on foot, and in order to vary it somewhat my friend 
and I proposed taking different routes from Frankfort to 
Leipsic. He choose a circuitous course by way of Nurem- 
berg and the Thiiringian forests, while I, whose fancy had 
been running wild with Goethe's witches, preferred looking 
on the gloom and grandeur of the rugged Hartz. We both 
left Frankfort on the 23d of April, each bearing a letter of 
introduction to the same person in Leipsic, where we agreed 
to meet in fourteen days. As we were obliged to travel as 
cheaply as possible, I started with but seventy-nine florins 
(a florin is forty cents American), well knowing that if I took 
more I should in all probability spend proportionably more 
also. Thus, armed with my passport, properly vised, a 
knapsack weighing fifteen pounds and a cane from the Ken- 
tucky Mammoth Cave, I began my lonely walk through 
Northern Germany. 

The warm w^eather of the week before had brought out 
the foliage of the willows and other early trees ; violets and 
cowslips were springing up in the meadows. Keeping along 
the foot of the Taunus, I passed over great broad hills which 
were brown with the spring ploughing, and by sunset reach- 
ed Friedberg, a large city on the summit of a hill. The 
next morning, after sketching its old baronial castle, I cross- 
ed the meadows to Nauheim to see the salt springs there. 
They are fifteen in number ; the water, which is very warm, 
rushes up with such force as to leap several feet above the 
earth. The buildings made for evaporation are nearly two 
miles in length ; a walk along the top gives a delightful 
view of the surrounding valleys. 

After reaching the chaussee again, I was hailed by a wan- 
dering journeyman — or handwerker, as they are called — 



THE HANDWEKKEK 131 

who wanted company. As I had concluded to accept all 
offers of this kind, we trudged along together very pleas- 
antly. He was from Holstein, on the borders of Denmark, 
and was just returning home after an absence of six years, 
having escaped from Switzerland after the late battle of 
Luzerne, which he had witnessed. He had his knapsack 
and tools fastened on two wheels^ which he drew after him 
quite conveniently. I could not help laughing at the adroit 
manner in which he begged his way along through every 
village. He would ask me to go on and wait for him at the 
other end ; after a few minutes he followed with a handful 
of small copper money, which he said he had " fought for " 
— the handwerker's term for begged. 

We passed over long ranges of hills, with an occasional 
view of the Vogelsgebirge, or Birds' Mountains, far to the 
east. I knew at length, by the pointed summits of the hills, 
that we were approaching Giessen and the valley of the 
Lahn. Finally two sharp peaks appeared in the distance, 
each crowned with a picturesque fortress, while the spires 
of Giessen rose from the valley below. Parting from my 
companion, I passed through the city without stopping ; for 
it was the time of the university vacation, and Dr. Liebig, 
the world-renowned chemist, whom I desired to see, was 
absent. 

Crossing a hill or two, I came down into the valley of 
the Lahn, which flows through meadows of the brightest 
green, with red-roofed cottages nestled among gardens and or- 
chards upon its banks. The women here wear a remarkable 
costume consisting of a red bodice with white sleeves, and 
a dozen skirts, one above another, reaching only to the 
knees. I slept again at a little village among the hills, and 
started early for Marburg. The meadows were of the pur- 
est emerald, through which the stream wound its way with 
even borders covered to the water's edge with grass so 
smooth and velvety that a fairy might have danced along 
on it for miles without stumbling over an uneven tuft. 



132 VIEWS A-rOOT. 

This valley is one of the finest districts in Germany. I 
thought, as I saw the peaceful inhabitants at work in their 
fields, I had most probably, on the battlefield of Brandy- 
wine, walked over the bones of some of their ancestors 
whom a despotic prince had torn from their happy homes 
to die in a distant land fighting against the cause of free- 
dom. 

I now entered directly into the heart of Hesse-Cassel. 
The country resembled a collection of hills thrown together 
in confusion, sometimes a wide plain left between them, 
sometimes a cluster of wooded peaks, and here and there a 
single pointed summit rising above the rest. The valleys 
were green as ever, the hillsides freshly ploughed and the 
forests beginning to be colored by the tender foliage of the 
larch and birch. I walked two or three hours at a stretch, 
and then, when I could find a dry, shady bank, I would 
rest for half an hour and finish some hastily-sketched land- 
scape, or lay at full length with my head on my knapsack 
and peruse the countenances of those passing by. The ob- 
servation which every traveller excites soon ceases to be 
embarrassing. It was at first extremely unpleasant, but I 
am now so hardened that the strange magnetic influence of 
the human eye, which we cannot avoid feeling, passes by 
me as harmlessly as if turned aside by invisible mail. 

During the day several showers came by, but, as none 
of them penetrated farther than my blouse, I kept on, and 
reached about sunset a little village in the valley. I chose 
a small inn which had an air of neatness about it, and on 
going in the tidy landlady's " Be you welcome !" as she 
brought a pair of slippers for my swollen feet made me feel 
quite at home. After being furnished with eggs, milk, 
butter and bread for supper — which I ate while listening to 
an animated discussion between the village schoolmaster 
and some farmers — I was ushered into a clean, sanded bed- 
room, and soon forgot all fatigue. For this, with breakfast 
in the morning, the bill was six and a half groschen — about 



LEGENDAEY HILLS. 133 

sixteen cents. The air was freshened by the rain, and I 
journeyed over the hills at a rapid rate. Stopping for din- 
ner at the large village of Wabern, a boy at the inn asked 
me if I was going to America. I said, " No, I came from 
there." He then asked me many silly questions, after which 
he ran out and told the people of the village. When I set 
out again, the children pointed at me and cried, "See there! 
He is from America !" and the men took off their hats and 

bowed. 

The sky was stormy, which added to the gloom of the 
hills around, though some of the distant ranges lay in 
mingled light and shade— the softest alternation of purple 
and brown. There were many isolated rocky hills, two of 
which interested me through their attendant legends. One 
is said to have been the scene of a battle between the Ro- 
mans and Germans, where after a long conflict the rock 
opened and swallowed up the former. The other, which is 
crowned with a rocky wall so like a ruined fortress as at a 
distance to be universally mistaken for one, tradition says 
is the death-place of Charlemagne, who still walks around 
its summit every night clad in complete armor. On ascend- 
ing a hill late in the afternoon, I saw at a great distance 
the statue of Hercules which stands on the Wilhelmshohe, 
near Cassel. Night set in with a dreary rain, and I stopped 
at an inn about five miles short of the city. While tea wa& 
preparing a company of students came in and asked for a 
separate room. Seeing I was alone, they invited me up 
with them. They seemed much interested in America, and, 
leaving the table gradually, formed a ring around me, 
where I had enough to do to talk with them all at once. 
When the omnibus came along, the most of them went with 
it to Cassel, but five remained and persuaded me to set out 
with them on foot. They insisted on carrying my knapsack 
the whole way through the rain and darkness, and when I 
had passed the city gate with them unchallenged conducted 
me to the comfortable hotel Zur Krone. 



134 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

It is a pleasant thing to wake up in the morning in a 
strange city. Everything is new ; you walk around it for 
the first time in the full enjoyment of the novelty, or the 
not less agreeable feeling of surprise if it is different from 
your anticipations. Two of my friends of the previous night 
called for me in the morning to show me around the city, 
and the first impression, made in such agreeable company, 
prepossessed me very favorably. I shall not, however, take 
up time in describing its many sights, particularly the 
Frederick's Platz, where the statue of Frederick the Second, 
who sold ten thousand of hia subjects to England, has been 
re-erected after having lain for years in a stable where it 
was thrown by the French. 

I was much interested in young Carl K , one of my 

new acquaintances. His generous and unceasiog kindness 
first won my esteem, and I found, on nearer acquaintance, 
the qualities of his mind equal those of his heart. I saw 
many beautiful poems of his which were of remarkable 
merit, considering his youth, and thought I could read in 
his dark, dreamy eye the unconscious presentiment of a 
power he does not yet possess. He seemed as one I had 
known for years. 

He, with a brother-student, accompanied me in the after- 
noon to Wilhelmshbhe, the summer-residence of the prince, 
on the side of a range of mountains three miles west of the 
city. The road leads in a direct line to the summit of the 
mountain, which is thirteen hundred feet in height, sur- 
mounted by a great structure called the Giant's Castle, on 
the summit of which is a pyramid ninety-six feet high, sup- 
porting a statue of Hercules copied after the Farnese and 
thirty-one feet in height. By a gradual ascent through beau- 
tiful woods we reached the princely residence, a magnificent 
mansion standing on a natural terrace of the mountain. 
Near it is a little theatre built by Jerome Buonaparte in 
which he himself used to play. We looked into the green- 
house in passing, where the floral splendor of every zone 



CUEIOUS V/ATEE-Y70KKS. 135 

was combined. There were lofty lialls with glass roofs 
where the orange grew to a great tree, and one could sit m 
myrtle-bowers with the brilliant bloom of the tropics around 
him. It was the only thing there I was guilty of coveting. 
The greatest curiosity is the water-works, which are per- 
haps unequalled in the world. The Giant's Castle, on the 
summit, contains an immense tank in which water is kept 
for the purpose ; but, unfortunately, at the time I was there 
the pipes, which had been frozen through the winter, were 
not in condition to play. From the summit an inclined 
plane of masonry descends the mountain nine hundred feet, 
broken every one hundred and fifty feet by perpendicular 
descents. These are the cascades down which the water 
first rushes from the tank. After being again collected in 
a great basin at the bottom it passes into an aqueduct built 
like a Roman ruin and goes over beautiful arches through 
the forest, where it falls in one sheet down a deep precipice. 
When it has descended several other beautiful falls made 
in exact imitation of nature, it is finally collected, and 
forms the great fountain, which rises twelve inches m 
diameter from the middle of a lake to the height of one 
hundred and ninety feet. We descended by lovely walks 
through the forest to the Lowenburg, built as the ruin of a 
knightly castle and fitted out in every respect to correspond 
with descriptions of a fortress in the olden time, with moat, 
drav/bridge, chapel and garden of pyramidal trees. Far- 
ther below are a few small houses inhabited by the de- 
scendants of the Hessians who fell in America, supported 
here at the prince's expense. 



136 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

ADVENTURES AMONG THE HAETZ. 

On taking leave of Carl at the gate over the Gottingen 
road I felt tempted to bestow a malediction upon travelling, 
from its merciless breaking of all links as soon as formed. 
It was painful to think we should meet no more. The tears 
started into his eyes, and, feeling a mist gathering over 
mine, I gave his hand a parting pressure, turned my back 
upon Cassel, and started up the long mountain at a desper- 
ate rate. On the summit I passed out of Hesse into Han- 
over, and began to descend the remaining six miles. The 
road went down by many windings, but I shortened the 
way considerably by a footpath through a mossy old forest. 

The hills bordering the Weser are covered with wood, 
through which I saw the little red-roofed city of Miinden 
at the bottom. I stopped there for the night, and next 
morning walked around the place. It is one of the old 
German cities that have not yet felt the effect of the chang- 
ing spirit of the age. It is still walled, though the towers 
are falling to ruin. The streets are narrow, crooked and 
full of ugly old houses, and, to stand in the little square 
before the public buildings, one would think himself born 
in the sixteenth century. Just below the city the Werra 
and Fulda unite and form the Weser. The triangular point 
has been made into a' public walk, and the little steamboat 
was lying at anchor near, waiting to start for Bremen. 

In the afternoon I got into the omnibus for Gottingen. 
The ride over the wild, dreary, monotonous hills was not at 
all interesting. There were two other passengers inside, 
one of whom, a grave, elderly man, took a great interest in 
America ; but the conversation was principally on his side, 
for I had been taken with a fever in Miinden. I lay 
crouched up in the corner of the vehicle, trying to keep off 



A MODERATE CHARGE. 137 

the chills which constantly came over me and wishing only 
for Gottingen, that I might obtain medicine and a bed. We 
reached it at last, and I got out with my knapsack and 
walked wearily through half a dozen streets till I saw an 
inn. But, on entering, I found it so dark and dirty and 
unfriendly that I immediately went out again and hired the 
first pleasant-looking boy I met to take me to a good hotel. 
He conducted me to the first one in the city. I felt a trep- 
idation of pocket, but my throbbing head plead more pow- 
erfully ; so I ordered a comfortable room and a physician. 
The host, Herr Wilhelm, sent for Professor Trefurt of the 
university, who told me I had over-exerted myself in walk- 
ing. He made a second call the next day, when, as he was 
retiring, I inquired the amount of his fee. He begged to 
be excused, and politely bowed himself out. I inquired 
the meaning of this of Herr Wilhelm, who said it was cus- 
tomary for travellers to leave what they chose for the phy- 
sician, as there was no regular fee. He added, moreover, 
that twenty groschen, or about sixty cents, was sufiacient 
for the two visits. 

I stayed in Gottingen two dull, dreary, miserable days 
without getting much better. I took but one short walk 
through the city, in which I saw the outsides of a few old 
churches and got a hard fall on the pavement. Thinking 
that the cause of my illness might perhaps become its cure, 
I resolved to go on rather than remain in the melancholy — 
in spite of its black-eyed maidens, melancholy — Gottingen. 
On the afternoon of the second day I took the post to Nord- 
heim, about twelve miles distant. The Gottingen valley, 
down which we drove, is green and beautiful, and the trees 
seem to have come out all at once. We were not within 
sight of the Hartz, but the mountains along the Weser were 
visible on the left. The roads were extremely muddy from 
the late rains ; so that I proceeded but slowly. 

A blue range along the horizon told me of the Hartz as 
I passed; although there were some fine side-glimpses 



138 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

through the hills, I did not see much of them till I reached 
Osterode, about twelve miles farther. Here the country- 
begins to assume a different aspect. The city lies in a nar- 
row valley, and as the road goes down a steep hill toward 
it one sees on each side many quarries of gypsum, and in 
front the gloomy pine-mountains are piled one above an- 
other in real Alpine style. But, alas ! the city, though it 
looks exceedingly romantic from above, is one of the dirtiest 
I ever saw. I stopped at Herzberg, six miles farther, for 
the night. The scenery was very striking, and its effect 
was much heightened by a sky full of black clouds, which 
sent down a hail-storm as they passed over. The hills are 
covered with pine, fir and larch. The latter tree in its first 
foliage is most delicate and beautiful. Every bough is like 
a long ostrich-plume ; and when one of them stands among 
the dark pines, it seems so light and airy that the wind 
might carry it away. Just opposite Herzberg the Hartz 
stands in its gloomy and mysterious grandeur, and I went 
to sleep with the pleasant thought that an hour's walk on 
the morrow would shut me up in its deep recesses. 

The next morning I entered them. The road led up a 
narrow mountain-valley down which a stream was rushing ; 
on all sides were magnificent forests of pine. It was glo- 
rious to look down their long aisles, dim and silent, with a 
floor of thick green moss. There was just room enough for 
the road and the wild stream which wound its way zigzag 
between the hills, affording the most beautiful mountain- 
view along the whole route. As I ascended, the mountains 
became rougher and wilder, and in the shady hollows were 
still drifts of snow. Enjoying everything very much, I 
walked on without taking notice of the road, and on reach- 
ing a wild, rocky chasm called the Schlucht was obliged to 
turn aside and take a footpath over a high mountain to 
Andreasberg, a town built on a summit two thousand feet 
above the sea. It is inhabited almost entirely by the work- 
men in the mines. 



IN THE CLOUDS. 139 

The way from Andreasberg to the Brocken leads along 
the Kehberger Graben, which carry water about six miles 
for the ore-works. After going through a thick pine-wood 
I came out on the mountain-side, where rough crags over- 
hung the way above, and through the tops of the trees I had 
glimpses into the gorge below. It was scenery of the wild- 
est character. Directly opposite rose a mountain-wall, dark 
and stern through the gloomy sky ; far below, the little 
stream of the Oder foamed over the rocks with a continual 
roar, and one or two white cloud-wreaths were curling up 
from the forests. 

I followed the water-ditch around every projection of the 
mountain, still ascending higher amid the same wild scen- 
ery, till at length I reached the Oderteich, a great dam in 
a kind of valley formed by some mountain-peaks on the side 
of the Brocken. It has a breastwork of granite, very firm, 
and furnishes a continual supply of water for the Avorks. 

It began to rain soon, and I took a footpath which went 
winding up through the pine-wood. The storm still in- 
creased, till everything was cloud and rain ; so I was obliged 
to stop about five o'clock at Oderbruch, a toll-house and 
tavern on the side of the Brocken, on the boundary between 
Brunswick and Hanover — the second highest inhabited 
house in the Hartz. The Brocken was invisible through 
the storm, and the weather foreboded a difiicult ascent. 
The night was cold, but by a warm fire I let the winds howl 
and the rain beat. When I awoke the next morning, we 
were in clouds. They were thick on every side, hiding 
what little view there was through the openings of the for- 
est. After breakfast, however, they were somewhat thin- 
ner, and I concluded to start for the Brocken. It is not 
the usual way for travellers who ascend, being not only a 
bad road, but difiicult to find, as I soon discovered. The 
clouds gathered around again after I set out, and I was 
obliged to walk in a storm of mingled rain and snow. Tiie 
snow lay several feet deep in the forests, and the path was 



140 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

in many places quite drifted over. The white cloud-masses 
were whirled past by the wind, continually enveloping me 
and shutting out every view. During the winter the path 
had become in many places the bed of a mountain-torrent ; 
so that I was obliged sometimes to wade knee-deep in snow, 
and sometimes to walk over the wet, spongy moss, crawling 
under the long, dripping branches of the stunted pines. 
After a long time of such dreary travelling I came to two 
rocks, called the Stag-Horns, standing on a little peak. 
The storm, now all snow, blew more violently than ever, 
and the path became lost under the deep drifts. 

Comforting myself with the assurance that if I could not 
find it I could at least make my way back, I began search- 
ing, and after some time came upon it again. Here the 
forest ceased ; the way led on large stones over a marshy 
ascending plain, but what was above or on either side I 
could not see. It was solitude of the most awful kind. 
There was nothing but the storm, which had already wet 
me through, and the bleak gray waste of rocks. It grew 
steeper and steeper ; I could barely trace the path by the 
rocks, which were worn, and the snow threatened soon to 
cover these. Added to this, although the walking and fresh 
mountain-air had removed my illness, I was still weak from 
the effects of it, and the consequences of a much longer ex- 
posure to the storm were greatly to be feared. I was won- 
dering, if the wind increased at the same rate, how much 
longer it would be before I should be carried off", when sud- 
denly something loomed up above me through the storm. 
A few steps more, and I stood beside the Brocken House, 
on the very summit of the mountain. The mariner who 
has been floating for days on a wreck at sea could scarcely 
be more rejoiced at a friendly sail than I was on entering 
the low building. Two large Alpine dogs in the passage, 
as I walked in dripping with wet, gave notice to the in- 
mates, and I was soon ushered into a warm room, where I 
changed my soaked garments for dry ones and sat down by 



THE SPECTRE OF THE BROCKEN. 141 

tlie fire with feelings of comfort not easily imagined. The 
old landlord was quite surprised, on hearing the path by 
which I came, that I found the way at all. The summit 
was wrapped in the thickest cloud, and he gave me no hope 
for several hours of any prospect at all ; so I sat down and 
looked over the strangers' album. 

I saw but two names from the United States— B. F. 
Atkins of Boston, and C. A. Hay, from York, Pa. There 
were a great many long-winded German poems— among 
them, one by Schelling, the philosopher. Some of them 
epoke of having seen the Spectre of the Brocken. I in- 
quired of the landlord about the phenomenon ; he says in 
winter it is frequently seen, in summer more seldom. The 
cause is very simple. It is always seen at sunrise, when 
the eastern side of the Brocken is free from clouds, and at 
the same time the mist rises from the valley on the opposite 
side. -The shadow of everything on the Brocken is then 
thrown in grand proportions upon the mist, and is seen sur- 
rounded with a luminous halo. It is somewhat singular 
that such a spectacle can be seen upon the Brocken alone, 
but this is probably accounted for by the formation of the 
mountain, which collects the mist at just such a distance 
from the summit as to render the shadow visible. 

Soon after dinner the storm subsided and the clouds sepa- 
rated a little. I could see down through the rifts on the 
plains of Brunswick, and sometimes, when they opened a 
little more, the mountains below us to the east and the ad- 
joining plains as far as Magdeburg. It was like looking 
on the earth from another planet or from some point in the 
air which had no connection with it ; our station was com- 
pletely surrounded by clouds rolling in great masses around 
us, now and then giving glimpses through their openings 
of the blue plains, dotted with cities and villages, far below. 
At one time when they were tolerably well separated I as- 
cended the tower, fifty feet high, standing near the Brocken 
House. The view on three sides was quite clear, and I can 



142 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

easily imagine what a magnificent prospect it must be in 
fine weather. The Brocken is only about four thousand 
feet high — nearly the same as the loftiest peak of the Cats- 
kill — but, being the highest mountain in Northern Ger- 
many, it commands a more extensive prospect. Imagine a 
circle described with a radius of a hundred miles, compris- 
ing thirty cities, two or three hundred villages and one 
whole mountain-district. We could see Brunswick and 
Magdeburg, and beyond them the great plain which ex- 
tends to the North Sea in one direction and to Berlin in the 
other, while directly below us lay the dark mountains of 
the Hartz, with little villages in their sequestered valleys. 
It was but a few moments I could look on this scene ; in 
an instant the clouds swept together again and completely 
hid it. In accordance with a custom of the mountain, one 
of the girls made me a Brocken nosegay of heather, lichens 
and moss. I gave her a few pfennings and stowed it away 
carefully in a corner of my knapsack. I now began de- 
scending the east side by a good road over fields of bare 
rock and through large forests of pine. Two or three bare 
brown peaks rose opposite with an air of the wildest sub- 
limity, and in many places through the forest towered lofty 
crags. This is the way by which Goethe brings Faust up 
the Brocken, and the scenery is graphically described in 
that part of the poem. 

At the foot of the mountain is the little village of 
Schiercke, the highest in the Hartz. Here I took a nar- 
row path through the woods, and after following a tediously 
long road over the hills reached Elbingerode, where I 
spent the night, and left the next morning for Blanken- 
burg. I happened to take the wrong road, however, and 
went through Riibeland, a little village in the valley of the 
Bode. There are many iron-works here, and two celebrated 
caves, called Baumann's Hohle and Biel's Hohle. I kept 
on through the gray, rocky hills to Huttenrode, where I 
inquired the way to the Kosstrappe, but was directed 



A MAGNIFICENT SPECTACLE. 143 

wrong, and after walking nearly two hours in a heavy rain 
arrived at Ludwigshiitte, on the Bode, in one of the wild- 
est and loneliest corners of the Hartz. I dried my wet 
clothes at a little inn, ate a dinner of bread and milk, and, 
learning that I was just as far from the Kosstrappe as ever 
and that the way was impossible to find alone, I hunted up 
a guide. 

We went over the mountains through a fine old forest for 
about two hours, and came out on the brow of a hill near 
the end of the Hartz, with a beautiful view of the country 
below and around. Passing the little inn, the path led 
through thick bushes along the summit, over a narrow ledge 
of rocks that seemed to stretch out into the air, for on 
either side the foot of the precipice vanished in the depth 
below. 

Arrived at last at the end, I looked around me. What a 
spectacle ! I was standing on the end of a line of precipice 
which ran out from the mountain like a wall for several 
hundred feet, the hills around rising up perpendicularly 
from the gorge below, where the Bode pressed into a nar- 
row channel foamed its way through. Sharp masses of gray 
rock rosQ up in many places from the main body like pil- 
lars, with trees clinging to the clefts, and, although the de- 
file was near seven hundred feet deep, the summits in one 
place were very near to one another. Near the point at 
which I stood, which was secured by a railing, was an im- 
pression in the rock like the hoof of a giant horse, from 
which the place takes its name. It is very distinct and 
perfect, and nearly two feet in length. 

I went back to the little inn and sat down to rest and 
chat a while with the talkative landlady. Notwithstanding 
her horrible Prussian dialect, I was much amused with the 
budget of wonders which she keeps for the information of 
travellers. Among other things, she related to me the legend 
of the Kosstrappe, which I give in her own words : " A 
great many hundred years ago, when there were plenty of 



144 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

giants through the world, there was a certain beautiful 
princess who was very much loved by one of them. Now, 
although the parents of this princess were afraid of the giant 
and wanted her to marry him, she herself hated him, be- 
cause she was in love with a brave knight. But, you see, 
the brave knight could do nothing against the great giant, 
and so a day was appointed for the wedding of the princess. 
When they were married, the giant had a great feast, and 
he and all his servants got drunk ; so the princess mounted 
his black horse and rode away over the mountains till she 
reached this valley. She stood on that square rock which 
you see there opposite to us ; and when she saw her knight 
on this side, where we are, she danced for joy, and the rock 
is called the Tanzplatz to this very day. But when the 
giant found she had gone, he followed her as fast as he 
might ; then a holy bishop who saw the princess blessed the 
feet of her horse, and she jumped on it across to this side, 
where his fore feet made two marks in the rock, though 
there is only one left now. You should not laugh at this ; 
for if there were giants then, there must have been very big 
horses too, as one can see from the hoof-mark, and the valley 
was narrower then than it is now. My dear man, who is 
very old now (you see him through the bushes, there, dig- 
ging) says it was so when he was a child, and that the old 
people living then told him there were once four just such 
hoof-tracks on the Tanzplatz where the horse stood before 
he jumped over. And we cannot doubt the words of the 
good old people, for there were many strange things then, 
we all know, which the dear Lord does not let happen now. 
But I must tell you, Lieber Herr, that the giant tried to 
jump after her and fell away down into the valley, where 
they say he lives yet in the shape of a big black dog, guard- 
ing the crown of the princess, which fell off as she was going 
over. But this part of the story is perhaps not true, as no- 
body that I ever heard of has seen either the black dog or 
the crown." 



BEEK-SOUR 145 

After listening to similar gossip for a while, I descended 
the mountain-side a short distance to the Biilowshohe. This 
is a rocky shaft that shoots upward from the mountain, 
having from its top a glorious view through the door which 
the Bode makes in passing out of the Hartz. I could sec 
at a great distance the towers of Magdeburg, and farther 
the vast plain stretching away like a sea toward Berlin. 
From Thale, the village below, where the air was warmer 
than in the Hartz and the fruit trees already in blossom, it 
was four hours' walk to Halberstadt by a most tiresome 
road over long ranges of hills, all ploughed and planted, 
and extending, as far as the eye could reach, without a sin- 
gle fence or hedge. It is pleasant to look over scenes where 
Nature is so free and unshackled, but the people, alas ! wear 
the fetters. The setting sun, which lighted up the old 
Brocken and his snowy top, showed me also Halberstadt, 
the end of my Hartz journey ; but its deceitful towers fled 
as I approached, and I was half dead with fatigue on ar- 
riving there. 

The ghostly, dark and echoing castle of an inn (the 
Black Eagle) where I stopped was enough to inspire a 
lonely traveller like myself with unpleasant fancies. It 
looked heavy and massive enough to have been a stout bar- 
on's stronghold in some former century ; the taciturn land- 
lord and his wife, who, with a solemn servant-girl, were the 
only tenants, had grown into perfect keeping with its gloomy 
character. When I groped my way under the heavy arched 
portal into the guests' room — a large, lofty, cheerless hall — 
all was dark, and I could barely perceive by the little light 
which came through two deep-set windows the inmates of 
the house sitting on opposite sides of the room. After some 
delay, the hostess brought a light. I entreated her to bring 
me something instantly for supper, and in half an hour she 
placed a mixture on the table the like of which I never 
wish to taste again. She called it beer-soup. I found on 
examination it was beer boiled with meat and seasoned 
10- 



146 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

strongly with pepper and salt. My hunger disappeared, 
and, pleading fatigue as an excuse for want of appetite, I 
left the table. 

When I was ready to retire, the landlady, who had been 
sitting silently in a dark corner, called the solemn servant- 
girl, who took up a dim lamp and bade me follow her to 
the "sleeping-chamber." Taking up my knapsack and 
staff, I stumbled down the steps into the arched gateway ; 
before me was a long, damp, deserted court-yard across 
which the girl took her way. I followed her with some as- 
tonishment, imagining where the sleeping-chamber could 
be, when she stopped at a small one-story building standing 
alone in the yard. Opening the door with a rusty key, she 
led me into a bare room a few feet square, opening into an- 
other equally bare with the exception of a rough bed. 
"Certainly," said I, " I am not to sleep here ?" — "Yes," she 
answered ; " this is the sleeping-chamber," at the same time 
setting down the light and disappearing. 

I examined the place; it smelt mouldy and the walls 
were cold and damp. There had been a window at the 
head of the bed, but it was walled up, and that at the foot 
was also closed to within a few inches of the top. The bed 
was coarse and dirty, and on turning down the ragged cov- 
ers I saw with horror a dark-brown stain near the pillow 
like that of blood. For a moment I hesitated whether to 
steal out of the inn and seek another lodging, late as it was ; 
at last, overcoming my fears, I threw my clothes into a 
heap and lay down, placing my heavy staff at the head of 
the bed. Persons passed up and down the court-yard sev- 
eral times, the light of their lamps streaming through the 
narrow aperture up against the ceiling, and I distinctly heard 
voices which seemed to be near the door. Twice did I sit 
up in bed, breathless, with my hand on the cane, in the most 
intense anxiety ; but fatigue finally overcame suspicion, and 
I sank into a deep sleep, from which I was gladly awakened 
by daylight. In reality, there may have been no cause for 



LEIPSIC. 147 

my fears — I may have wronged the lonely innkeepers by 
them ; but certainly no place or circumstances ever seemed 
to me more appropriate to a deed of robbery or crime. I 
left immediately ; and when a turn in the street hid the ill- 
omened front of the inn, I began to breathe with my usual 
freedom. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

NOTES IN LEIPSIC AND DRESDEN. 

" Leipsic, May 8. 

I HAVE now been nearly two days in this wide-famed 
city ; and the more I see of it, the better I like it. It is a 
pleasant, friendly town, old enough to be interesting and 
new enough to be comfortable. There is much active 
business-life, through which it is fast increasing in size and 
beauty. Its publishing establishments are the largest in 
the world, and its annual fairs attended by people from all 
parts of Europe. This is much for a city to accomplish 
situated alone in the middle of a great plain, with no natural 
charms of scenery or treasures of art to attract strangers. 
The energy and enterprise of its merchants have accom- 
plished all this, and it now stands in importance among the 
first cities of Europe. 

The bad weather obliged me to take the railroad at Hal- 
berstadt to keep the appointment with my friend in this 
city. I left at six for Magdeburg, and after two hours' 
ride over a dull, tiresome plain rode along under the 
mounds and fortifications by the side of the Elbe, and en- 
tered the old town. It was very cold, and the streets were 
muddy ; so I contented myself with looking at the Broad- 
way {der breite Weg), the cathedral and one or two curious 
old churches, and in walking along the parapet leading to 
the fortress, which has a view of the winding Elbe. The 



148 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

citadel was interesting from having been the prison in which 
Baron Trenck was confined, whose narrative I read years 
ago, when quite a child. 

We were soon on the road to Leipsic. The way was over 
one great uninterrupted plain — a more monotonous country, 
even, than Belgium. Two of the passengers in the car with 
me were much annoyed at being taken by the railway-agents 
for Poles. Their movements were strictly watched by the 
gens cVarme at every station we passed, and they were not 
even allowed to sit together. At Kothen a branch-track 
wentoif to Berlin. We passed by Halle without being able 
to see anything of it or its university, and arrived here in 
four hours after leaving Magdeburg. 

On my first walk around the city, yesterday morning, I 
passed the Augustus Platz — a broad green lawn on which 
front the university and several other public buildings. A 
chain of beautiful promenades encircles the city on the site 
of its old fortifications. Following their course through 
walks shaded by large trees and bordered with flowering 
shrubs, I passed a small but chaste monument to Sebastian 
Bach, the composer, which was erected almost entirely at 
the private cost of Mendelssohn, and stands opposite the 
building in which Bach once directed the choirs. As I was. 
standing beside it a glorious choral swelled by a hundred 
voices came through the open windows like a tribute to the 
genius of the great master. 

Having found my friend, we went together to the Stern 
Warte, or observatory, which gives a fine view of the country 
around the city, and in particular the battlefield. The cas- 
tellan who is stationed there is well acquainted with the 
localities, and pointed out the position of the hostile armies. 
It was one of the most bloody and hard-fought battles which 
history records. The army of Napoleon stretched like a 
semicircle around the southern and eastern sides of the city, 
and the plain beyond was occupied by the allies, whose 
/brces met together here. Schwarzenberg, with his Austri- 



SCHILLER'S EOOM. 149 

ans, came from Dresden ; Blucher, fram Halle, with the 
emperor Alexander. Their forces amounted to three hun- 
dred thousand, while those of Napoleon ranked at one hun- 
dred and ninety-two thousand men. It must have been a 
terrific scene. Four days raged the battle, and the meeting 
of half a million of men in deadly conflict was accompanied 
by the thunder of sixteen hundred cannon. The small 
rivers which flow through Leipsic were swollen with blood, 
and the vast plain was strewed with more than fifty thou- 
sand dead. It is difiicult to conceive of such slaughter 
while looking at the quiet and tranquil landscape below. 
It seemed more like a legend of past ages, when ignorance 
and passion led men to murder and destroy, than an event 
which the last half century witnessed. For the sake of hu- 
manity it is to be hoped that the world will never see such 
another. 

There are some lovely walks around Leipsic. We went 
yesterday afternoon with a few friends to the Rosenthal, a 
beautiful meadow bordered by forests of the German oak, 
very few of whose Druid trunks have been left standing. 
There are Swiss cottages embowered in the foliage where 
every afternoon the social citizens assemble to drink their 
coflee and enjoy a few hours' escape from the noisy and 
dusty streets. One can walk for miles along these lovely 
paths by the side of the velvet meadows or the banks of 
some shaded stream. We visited the little village of Golis, 
a short distance ofl", where, in the second story of a little 
white house, hangs the sign, " Schiller's Room." Some of 
the Leipsic literati have built a stone arch over the entrance, 
with the inscription above : " Here dwelt Schiller in 1795, 
and wrote his Hymn to Joy." Everywhere through Ger- 
many the remembrances of Schiller are sacred. In every 
city where he lived they show his dwelling. They know 
and reverence the mighty spirit who has been among them. 
The little room where he conceived that sublime poem is 
hallowed as if by the presence of unseen spirits. 



150 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

I was anxious to see the spot where Poniatowsky fell. 
We returned over the plain to the city, and passed in at 
the gate by which the Cossacks entered, pursuing the flying 
French. Crossing the lower part, we came to the little 
river Elster, in whose waves the gallant prince sank. The 
stone bridge by which we crossed was blown up by the 
French to cut off pursuit. Napoleon had given orders that 
it should not be blown up till the Poles had all passed over, 
as the river, though narrow, is quite deep and the banks 
are steep. Nevertheless, his officers did not wait, and the 
Poles, thus exposed to the fire of the enemy, were obliged 
to plunge into the stream to join the French army, which 
had begun the retreat toward Frankfort. Poniatowsky, 
severely wounded, made his way through a garden near, 
and escaped on horseback into the water. He became en- 
tangled among the fugitives, and sank. By walking a lit- 
tle distance along the road toward Frankfort we could see 
the spot where his body was taken out of the river ; it is 
now marked by a square stone covered wdth the names of 
his countrymen who have visited it. We returned through 
the narrow arched way by which Napoleon fled when the 
battle was lost. 

Another interesting place in Leipsic is Auerbach's Cel- 
lar, which, it is said, contains an old manuscript history of 
Faust from which Goethe derived the first idea of his poem. 
He used to frequent this cellar, and one of his scenes in 
Faust is laid in it. We looked down the arched passage ; 
not wishing to purchase any wine, we could find no pre- 
tence for entering. The streets are full of book-stores, and 
one-half the business of the inhabitants appears to consist 
in printing, paper-making and binding. The publishers 
have a handsome exchange of their own, and during the 
fairs the amount of business transacted is enormous. The 
establishment of Brockhaus is contained in an immense 
building, adjoining which stands his dwelling, in the midst 
of magnificent gardens. That of Tauchnitz is not less 



DKESDEN 151 

celebrated ; his editions of the classics in particular are the 
best that have ever been made, and he has lately com- 
menced publishing a number of English works in a cheap 
form. Otto Wigand, who has also a large establishment, 
has begun to issue translations of American works ; he has 
already published Prescott and Bancroft, and, I believe, in- 
tends giving out shortly translations from some of our poets 
and novelists. I became acquainted at the museum with a 
young German author who had been some time in America 
and was well versed in our literature. He is now engaged 
in translating American works, one of which — Hoffman's 
Wild Scenes of the Forest and Prairie — will soon appear. 
In no place in Germany have I found more knowledge of 
our country, her men and her institutions than in Leipsic, 
and as yet I have seen few that would be preferable as a 
place of residence. Its attractions lie, not in its scenery, 
but in the social and intellectual character of its inhabit- 
ants. 

May 11. 

At last in this " Florence of the Elbe," as the Saxons 
have christened it ! Exclusive of its glorious galleries of 
art, which are scarcely surpassed by any in Europe, Dres- 
den charms one by the natural beauty of its environs. It 
stands in a curve of the Elbe, in the midst of green mead- 
ows, gardens and fine old woods, with the hills of Saxony 
sweeping around like an amphitheatre and the craggy peaks 
of the highlands looking at it from afar. The domes and 
spires at a distance give it a rich Italian look, which is 
heightened by the white villas embowered in trees gleaming 
on the hills around. In the streets there is no bustle of busi- 
ness — ^nothing of the din and confusion of trafiic which 
mark most cities ; it seems like a place for study and 
quiet enjoyment. 

The railroad brought us in three hours from Leipsic over 
the eighty miles of plain that intervene. We came from 
the station through the Neustadt, passing the Japanese pal- 



152 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

ace and the equestrian statue of Augustus the Strong. The 
magnificent bridge over the Elbe was so much injured by 
the late inundation as to be impassable ; we were obliged to 
go some distance up the river-bank and cross on a bridge 
of boats. Next morning my first search was for the picture- 
gallery. We set off* at random, and after passing the church 
of Our Lady, with its lofty dome of solid stone, which with- 
stood the heaviest bombs during the war with Frederick 
the Great, came to an open square one side of which was 
occupied by an old brown, red-roofed building which I at 
once recognized from pictures as the object of our search. 
I have just taken a last look at the gallery this morning, 
and left it with real regret ; for during the two visits Ra- 
phael's heavenly picture of the Madonna and Child had so 
grown into my love and admiration that it was painful to think 
I should never see it again. There are many more which 
clung so strongly to my imagination, gratifying in the 
highest degree the love for the Beautiful, that I left them 
with sadness and the thought that I would now only have 
the memory. I can see the inspired eye and godlike brow 
of the Jesus-child as if I were still standing before the pic- 
ture, and the sweet, holy countenance of the Madonna still 
looks upon me. Yet, though this picture is a miracle of 
art, the first glance filled me with disappointment. It has 
somewhat faded during the three hundred years that have 
rolled away since the hand of Raphael worked on the can- 
vas, and the glass with which it is covered for better pres- 
ervation injures the eflfect. After I had gazed on it a while, 
every thought of this vanished. The figure of the Virgin 
seemed to soar in the air, and it was difficult to think the 
clouds were not in motion. An aerial lightness clothes her 
form, and it is perfectly natural for such a figure to stand 
among the clouds. Two divine cherubs look up from below, 
and in her arms sits the sacred Child. Those two faces beam 
from the picture like those of angels. The mild, prophetic 
eye and lofty brow of the young Jesus chains one like a 



HAGAR AND ISHMAEL. 153 

spell. There is something more than mortal in its expres- 
sion — something in the infant face which indicates a power 
mightier than the proudest manhood. There is no glory 
around the head, but the spirit which shines from those 
features marks his divinity. In the sweet face of the moth- 
er there speaks a sorrowful foreboding mixed with its tender- 
ness, as if "She knew the world into which the Saviour was 
born and foresaw the path in which he was to tread. It is 
a picture which one can scarce look upon without tears. 

There are in the same room six pictures by Correggio 
which are said to be among his best works — one of them, 
his celebrated Magdalen. There is also Correggio's " Holy 
Night," or the Virgin with the shepherds in the manger, in 
which all the light comes from the body of the Child. The 
surprise of the shepherds is most beautifully expressed. In 
one of the halls there is a picture by Van der Werff in 
which the touching story of Hagar is told more feelingly 
than words could do it. The young Ishmael is represented 
full of grief at parting with Isaac, who, in childish uncon- 
sciousness of what has taken place, draws in sport the cor- 
ner of his mother's mantle around him and smiles at the 
tears of his lost playmate. Nothing can come nearer real 
flesh and blood than the two portraits of Raphael Mengs, 
painted by himself when quite young. You almost think 
the artist has in sport crept behind the frame and wishes to 
make you believe he is a picture. It would be impossible 
to speak of half the gems of art contained in this unrivalled 
collection. There are twelve large halls, containing in all 
nearly two thousand pictures. 

The plain south of Dresden was the scene of the hard- 
fought battle between Napoleon and the allied armies in 
1813. On the heights above the little village of Racknitz, 
Moreau was shot on the second day of the battle. We took 
a footpath through the meadows, shaded by cherry trees in 
bloom, and reached the spot after an hour's walk. The 
monument is simple — a square block of granite surmount- 



164 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

ed by a helmet and sword, with the inscription, " The hero 
Moreau fell here by the side of Alexander, August 17, 
1813." I gathered as a memorial a few leaves of the oak 
which shades it. 

By applying an hour before the appointed time, we ob- 
tained admission to the royal library. It contains three 
hundred thousand volumes — among them, the most com- 
plete collection of historical works in existence. Each hall 
is devoted to a history of a separate country, and one large 
room is filled with that of Saxony alone. There is a large 
number of rare and curious manuscripts, among which are 
old Greek works of the seventh and eighth centuries, a 
Koran which once belonged to the sultan Bajazet, the hand- 
writing of Luther and Melanchthon, a manuscript volume 
with pen-and-ink sketches by Albert Diirer, and the earliest 
works after the invention of printing. Among these latter 
was a book published by Faust and. Schaeffer, at Mayence, 
in 1457. There were also Mexican manuscripts written on 
the aloe leaf, and many illuminated monkish volumes of 
the Middle Ages. 

We were fortunate in seeing the Grune Gewolbe, or Green 
Gallery, a collection of jewels and costly articles unsurpassed 
in Europe. The entrance is only granted to six persons at 
a time, who pay a fee of two thalers. The customary way 
is to employ a lohnbedienter, who goes around from one hotel 
to another till he has collected the number, when he brings 
them together and conducts them to the person in the pal- 
ace who has charge of the treasures. As our visit happened 
to be during the Pentecost holidays, when everybody in 
Dresden goes to the mountains, there was some difficulty in 
effecting this ; but after two mornings spent in hunting up 
curious travellers, the servant finally conducted us in tri- 
umph to the palace. The first hall into which we were 
ushered contained works in bronze. They were all small, 
and chosen with regard to their artistical value. Some by 
John of Bologna were exceedingly fine, as was also a group 



THE "SPANISH DWAKF." 155 

in iron cut out of a single block, perhaps the only successful 
attempt in this branch. The next room contained statues, 
and vases covered with reliefs in ivory. The most remarkabl e 
work was the fall of Lucifer and his angels, containing ninety- 
two figures in all, carved out of a single piece of ivory six- 
teen inches high. It was the work of an Italian monk, and 
cost him many years of hard labor. There were two tables 
of mosaic-work that would not be out of place in the fabled 
halls of the Eastern genii, so much did they exceed my for- 
mer ideas of human skill. The tops were of jasper, and 
each had a border of fruit and flowers in which every color 
was represented by some precious stone, all with the utmost 
delicacy and truth to nature. It is impossible to conceive 
the splendid effect it produced. Besides some fine pictures 
on gold by Kaphael Mengs, there was a Madonna, the lar- 
gest specimen of enamel-painting in existence. 

However costly the contents of these halls, they were only 
an introduction to those which followed. Each one ex- 
ceeded the other in splendor and costliness. The walls were 
covered to the ceiling with rows of goblets, vases, etc., of 
polished jasper, agate, and lapis lazuli. Splendid mosaic 
tables stood around with caskets of the most exquisite silver 
and gold work upon them, and vessels of solid silver, some 
of them weighing six hundred pounds, were placed at the 
foot of the columns. We were shown two goblets, each 
prized at six thousand thalers, made of gold and precious 
stones ; also the great pearl called the " Spanish Dwarf," 
nearly as large as a pullet's egg, globes and vases cut en- 
tirely out of the mountain-crystal, magnificent Nuremberg 
watches and clocks, and a great number of figures made in- 
geniously of rough pearls and diamonds. The officer showed 
us a hen's egg of silver. There was apparently nothing re- 
markable about it, but by unscrewing it came apart and 
disclosed the yelk of gold. This again opened, and a golden 
chicken was seen ; by touching a spring a little diamond 
crown came from the inside, and, the crown being again 



156 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

taken apart, out dropped a valuable diamond ring. The 
seventh hall contains the coronation-robes of Augustus II. 
of Poland and many costly specimens of carving in wood. 
A cherry-stone is shown in a glass case which has one hun- 
dred and twenty-five faces, all perfectly finished, carved 
upon it. 

The next room we entered sent back a glare of splendor 
that perfectly dazzled us ; it was all gold, diamond, ruby, and 
sapphire. Every case sent out such a glow and glitter that 
it seemed like a cage of imprisoned lightnings. Wherever 
the eye turned it was met by a blaze of broken rainbows. 
They were there by hundreds, and every gem was a for- 
tune — whole cases of swords with hilts and scabbards of 
solid gold studded with gems, the great two-handed corona- 
tion sword of the German emperors, daggers covered wdth 
brilliants and rubies, diamond buttons, chains, and orders, 
necklaces and bracelets of pearl and emerald, and the order 
of the Golden Fleece made in gems of every kind. We 
were also shown the largest known onyx, nearly seven inches 
long and four inches broad. One of the most remarkable 
works is the throne and court of Aurungzebe, the Indian 
king, by Dinglinger, a celebrated goldsmith of the last cen- 
tury. It contains one hundred and thirty-two figures, all 
of enamelled gold and each one most perfectly and elabo- 
rately finished. It was purchased by Prince Augustus for 
fifty-eight thousand thalers,* which was not a high sum, 
considering that the making of it occupied Dinglinger and 
thirteen workmen for seven years. 

It is almost impossible to estimate the value of the treas- 
ures these halls contain. That of the gold and jewels alone 
must be many millions of dollars, and the amount of labor 
expended on these toys of royalty is incredible. As monu- 
ments of patient and untiring toil they are interesting, but 
it is sad to think how much labor and skill and energy 
have been wasted in producing things which are useless to 
* A Prussian or Saxon thaler is about seventy cents. 



THE SAXON SWITZEKLAND. 157 

the world and only of secondary importance as works of 
art. Perhaps, however, if men could be diverted by such 
playthings from more dangerous games, it would be all 
the better. 



CHAPTER XIX.. 

EAMBLES IN THE SAXON SWITZERLAND. 

After four days' sojourn in Dresden, we shouldered our 
knapsacks, not to be laid down again till we reached Prague. 
We were elated with the prospect of getting among the 
hills again, and we heeded not the frequent showers which 
had dampened the enjoyment of the Pentecost holidays 
to the good citizens of Dresden, and might spoil our own. 
So we trudged gayly along the road to Pillnitz and waved 
an adieu to the domes behind us as the forest shut them out 
from view. 

After two hours' walk the road led down to the Elbe, 
where we crossed in a ferry-boat to Pillnitz, the seat of 
a handsome palace and gardens belonging to the king of 
Saxony. He happened to be there at the time, on an 
afternoon excursion from Dresden ; as we had seen him 
before in the latter place, we passed directly on, only 
pausing to admire the flower-beds in the palace-court. 
The king is a tall, benevolent-looking man, and is appar- 
ently much liked by his people. 

As far as I have yet seen. Saxony is a prosperous and 
happy country. The people are noted all over Germany 
for their honest social character, which is written on their 
cheerful, open countenances. On our entrance into the 
Saxon Switzerland at Pillnitz we were delighted with the 
neatness and homelike appearance of everything. Every- 
i)ody greeted us ; if we asked for information, they gave 



168 TrE^S A-FOOT. 

it cheQcfiLDr. X^^ Till^^rT? ---- all feasant and dean 
and tbe meadow? fresh :.i i n?. I &lt balf tempted 

to say, in the wc : 1 ^ : _ hich I beUeve Jjodq- 

l^low has tzansl&icd : 



CSoii^aloi^ tlr Itt: i die Elbe, ire passed over 

meadows purple ::_ : t V :-fd Tiolet wMek we haTe 

at hMnein g5.rifi5 :_ i .:le l?ank was Inj^it with 

eowsl^ptaL A: t_^:2 :zt : :_ -1 i;"rri into a deft or lar 
Tine filled ir^z :: tJ - :5t : :ts -t t ^ a lerdwith Urn 

eoonfarj aromid. Ijiis is i i t .:l:.:r Zt : Saxcm seen- 

ay. Tlie cc-HTry ; i.: is :_ i- :: :it — .rf^s, some of 
idndi are sevr::L^ ji__ :;! It: 1 — ; i :z^ - -Zs of per- 

pendienlar i: .£ _i ~i:5r ::t~ ItS :_t i_ i.:.,:~-TLiLr roots 
itadf and ^:;-s : :■. : -fri t It^j^: - :: :: _ nt 

Bwltokef : L T r It tL t : _ ; lif 



lacTine^ c: .:. :_t _:t tT-I/^tI ^:__:-. _: _; "::.t; t^. i 
manxnf :L- -i:; :.:"":i_ ::;ii rzii^i. :;r i : lii.-T.;. ..t 
£:: _ _iZ5 If ii - zr It :: 51^^: Zc ro^ 

quite per .=-5 '~- : i^ed ic grew nanows 

and deejr: . .t :Lt :: Tiizr its sides and edges 

nearly sli :: : _: :ir si; ^i ^ ^:«^Ik Inoog^ ns to 

the env ^-tIt -^ is ri-li _ : the upper ievd 

again. 

A&Est fsMitg the ni^it at die little Tillage of TJttewalde^ 
m dioit diatanee fiucdia; we set out eaifyin the mooiing ftr 
die Bastd, a kAj piecsqpifie on the Elbe. The way led ns 
diiectlj diroag^ die Uttew^da- Chimd, ^e most lemaik- 
able of all these diasms. TTe w&si down hj ^eps into its 
depdia^whidi in the eazljmomi]^ were Teij cold. Water 
diT[^»d fiem die rocks, whieh,hot a &wfeet j^tazt^roae &r 
above ns» and a little liQ made its way alo^ the bottom, 
into which the son has nerer dbme. Heavy masaes of to(^ 
whieh had tumbled down from the ades lay in theway,and 



SAXON SCENEEY. 159 

tall pine trees sprung from every cleft. In one place the 
defile is only four feet wide, and a large mass of rock fallen 
from above has lodged near the bottom, making an arch 
across, under which the traveller has to creep. After going 
under two or three arches of this kind the defile widened, 
and an arrow cut upon a rock directed us to a side-path 
which branched off from this into a mountain. Here the 
stone masses immediately assumed another form. They 
projected out like shelves, sometimes as much as twenty feet 
from the straight side, and hung over the way, looking as 
if they might break off every moment. I felt glad when 
we had passed under them. Then, as we ascended higher, 
we saw pillars of rock separated entirely from the side and 
rising a hundred feet in height, with trees growing on their 
summits. They stood there gray and time-worn, like the 
ruins of a Titan temple. 

The path finally led us out into the forest and through 
the clustering pine trees to the summit of the Bastei. An 
inn has been erected in the woods and an iron balustrade 
placed around the rock. Protected by this, we advanced 
to the end of the precipice and looked down to the swift 
Elbe, more than seven hundred feet below. Opposite 
through the blue mists of morning rose Konigstein, crowned 
with an impregnable fortress, and the crags of Lilienstein, 
with a fine forest around their base, frowned from the left 
bank. On both sides were horrible precipices of gray rock 
with rugged trees hanging from the crevices. A hill rising 
up from one side of the Bastei terminates suddenly a short 
distance from it in an abrupt precipice. In the intervening 
space stand three or four of these rock-columns, several 
hundred feet high, with their tops nearly on a level with 
the Bastei. A wooden bridge has been made across from 
one to the other, over which the traveller passes, looking on 
the trees and rocks far below him, to the mountain, where 
a steep zigzag path takes him to the Elbe below. 

We crossed the Elbe — for the fourth time — at the foot 



160 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

of tlie Bastei, and walked along its right bank toward Ko- 
nigstein. The injury caused by the inundation was every- 
where apparent. The receding flood had left a deposit 
of sand, in many places several feet deep, on the rich 
meadows ; so that the labor of years will be requisite to re- 
move it and restore the land to an arable condition. Even 
the farmhouses on the hillside, some distance from the river, 
had been reached, and the long grass hung in the highest 
branches of the fruit trees. The people were at work tr}^- 
ing to repair their injuries, but it will fall heavily upon the 
poorer classes. 

The mountain of Konigstein is twelve hundred feet high. 
A precipice varying from one to three hundred feet in 
height runs entirely around the summit, which is flat and a 
mile and a half in circumference. This has been turned 
into a fortress whose natural advantages make it entirely 
impregnable. During the Thirty Years' War and the late 
war with Napoleon it was the only place in Saxony unoc- 
cupied by the enemy. Hence is it used as a depository for 
the archives and royal treasures in times of danger. By 
giving up our passports at the door we received permission 
to enter ; the officer called a guide to take us around the 
battlements. There is quite a little village on the summit^ 
with gardens, fields and a wood of considerable size. The 
only entrance is by a road cut through the rock, which is 
strongly guarded. A well seven hundred feet deep supplies 
the fortress with water, and there are storehouses sufficient 
to hold supplies for many years. The view from the ram- 
parts is glorious : it takes in the whole of the Saxon High- 
lands as far as the lofty Schneeberg, in Bohemia. On the other 
side the eye follows the windings of the Elbe as far as the 
spires of Dresden. Lilienstein, a mountain of exactly sim- 
ilar formation, but somewhat higher, stands directly opposite. 
On walking around, the guide pointed out a little square 
tower standing on the brink of a precipice, with a ledge 
about two feet wide running around it just below the win- 



AN OUTBURST OF PATRIOTISM. 161 

dows. He said during the reign of Augustus the Strong 
a baron attached to his court rose in his sleep after a night 
of revelry, and, stepping out the window, stretched himself 
at full length along the ledge. A guard fortunately ob- 
served his situation and informed Augustus of it, who had 
him bound and secured with cords and then awakened by 
music. It was a good lesson, and one which, no doubt, 
sobered him for the future. 

Passing through the little city of Konigstein, we walked 
on to Schandau, the capital of the Saxon Switzerland, situ- 
ated on the left bank. It had sustained great damage 
from the flood, the whole place having been literally under 
water. Here we turned up a narrow valley which led to 
the Kuhstall, some eight miles distant. The sides, as usual, 
were of steep gray rock, but wide enough apart to give 
room to some lovely meadows, with here and there a rustic 
cottage. The mountain-maidens in their bright-red dresses, 
with a fanciful scarf bound around the head, made a ro- 
mantic addition to the scene. There were some quiet se- 
cluded nooks where the light of day stole in dimly through 
the thick foliage above and the wild stream rushed less 
boisterously over the rocks. We sat down to rest in one of 
these cool retreats and made the glen ring with a cheer for 
America. The echoes repeated the name as if they had 
heard it for the first time, and I gave them a strict injunc- 
tion to give it back to the next countryman who should 
pass by. 

As we advanced farther into the hills the way became 
darker and wilder. We heard the sound of falling water 
in a little dell on one side, and, going nearer, saw a pic- 
turesque fall of about fifteen feet. Great masses of black 
rock were piled together, over which the mountain-stream 
fell in a snowy sheet. The pines above and around grew 
so thick and close that not a sunbeam could enter, and a 
kind of mysterious twilight pervaded the spot. In Greece 
it would have been chosen for an oracle. I have seen 
11 



162 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

somewliere a picture of the Spirit of Poetry sitting beside 
just such a cataract, and truly the nymph could choose no 
more appropriate dwelling. But alas for sentiment! 
AVhile we were admiring its picturesque beauty we did not 
notice a man who came from a hut near by and went up 
behind the rocks. All at once there was a roar of water, 
and a real torrent came pouring down. I looked up, and, 
lo ! there he stood with a gate in his hand which had held 
the water imprisoned, looking down at us to observe the 
efiect. I motioned him to shut it up again, and he ran 
down to us lest he should lose his fee for the " sight." 

Our road now left the valley and ascended through a 
forest to the Kuhstall, which we came upon at once. It is a 
remarkable natural arch through a rocky wall or rampart 
one hundred and fifty feet thick. Going through, we came 
at the other end to the edge of a very deep precipice, while 
the rock towered precipitously far above. Below lay a 
deep circular valley two miles in diameter and surrounded 
on every side by ranges of crags such as we saw on the 
Bastei. It w^as entirely covered with a pine-forest, and 
there only appeared to be two or three narrow defiles 
which gave it a communication with the world. The top 
of the Kuhstall can be reached by a path which runs up 
through a split in the rock directly to the summit. It is 
just wide enough for one person to squeeze himself through ; 
pieces of wood have been fastened in as steps, and the 
rocks in many places close completely above. The place 
derives its name from having been used by the mountain- 
eers as a hiding-place for their cattle in time of war. 

Next morning we descended by another crevice in the 
rock to the lonely valley, which we crossed, and climbed 
the Little Wiuterberg, on the opposite side. There is a 
wide and rugged view from a little tower on a precipitous 
rock near the summit, erected to commemorate the escape 
of Prince Augustus of Saxony, who, being pursued by a 
mad stag, rescued himself on the very brink by a lucky 



THE HIGHLANDS OF SAXONY. 163 

blow. Among the many wild valleys that lay between the 
hills, we saw scarcely one without the peculiar rocky for- 
mation which gives to Saxon scenery its most interesting 
character. They resemble the remains of some mighty 
work of art rather than one of the thousand varied forms 
in which Nature delights to clothe herself. 

The Great Winterberg, which is reached by another hour's 
walk along an elevated ridge, is the highest of the mountains, 
celebrated for the grand view from its summit. Yf e found 
the handsome Swiss hotel recently built there full of tour- 
ists who had come to enjoy the scene, but the morning 
clouds hid everything. We ascended the tower, and, look- 
ing between them as they rolled by, caught glimpses of the 
broad landscape below. The Giant's Mountains, in Silesia, 
were hidden by the mist, but sometimes, when the wind 
freshened, we could see beyond the Elbe into Bohemian 
Switzerland, where the long Schneeberg rose conspicuous 
above the smaller mountains. Leaving the other travellers 
to wait at their leisure for clearer weather, we set off for the 
Prebischthor in company with two or three students from 
the polytechnic school in Dresden. An hour's walk over 
high hills whose forest-clothing had been swept off by fire a 
few years before brought us to it. 

The Prebischthor is a natural arch, ninety feet high, in a 
wall of rock which projects at right angles from the pre- 
cipitous side of the mountain. A narrow path leads over 
the top of the arch to the end of the rock, where, protected 
by a railing, the traveller seems to hang in the air. The 
valley is far below him, mountains rise up on either side, 
and only the narrow bridge connects him with the earth. 
We descended by a wooden staircase to the bottom of the 
arch, near which a rustic inn is built against the rock, and 
thence into the valley below, which we followed through 
rude and lonely scenery to Hirnischkretschen (!), on the 
Elbe. 

Crossing the river again — for the sixth, and last, time— 



164 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

we followed the right bank to Neidergrund, the first Aus- 
trian village. Here our passports were vised for Prague, 
and we were allowed to proceed without any examination 
of baggage. I noticed a manifest change in our fellow- 
travellers the moment we crossed the border. They appear- 
ed anxious and careful. If we happened to speak of the 
state of the country, they always looked around to see if 
anybody was near, and if we even 2:)assed a workman on the 
road quickly changed to some other subject. They spoke 
much of the jealous strictness of the government, and, from 
what I heard from Austrians themselves, there may have 
been ground for their cautiousness. 

We walked seven or eight miles along the bank of the 
Elbe to Tetschen, there left our companions and took the 
road to Teplitz. The scenery was very picturesque ; it must 
be delightful to float down the swift current in a boat, as 
we saw several merry companies do. The river is just small 
enough and the banks near enough together to render such 
a mode of travelling delightful, and the strength of the cur- 
rent would carry one to Dresden in a day. 

I was pleasantly disappointed on entering Bohemia. In- 
stead of a dull, uninteresting 'country, as I expected, it is a 
land full of the most lovely scenery. There is everything- 
which can gratify the eye — high blue mountains, valleys of 
the sweetest pastoral look and romantic old ruins. The very 
name of Bohemia is associated with wild and wonderful 
legends of the rude barbaric ages. Even the chivalric tales 
of the feudal times of Germany grow tame beside these 
earlier and darker histories. The fallen fortresses of the 
Rhine or the robber-castles of the Odenwald had not for 
me so exciting an interest as the shapeless ruins cumbering 
these lonely mountains. The civilized Saxon race was left 
behind ; I saw around me the features and heard the lan- 
guage of one of those rude Sclavonic tribes whose original 
home was on the vast steppes of Central Asia. I have 
rarely enjoyed travelling more than oiir first two days' jour- 



KULM AND TEPLITZ. 165 

ney toward Prague. The range of the Erzgebirge ran along 
on our right ; the snow still lay in patches upon it, but the 
valleys between, with their little clusters of white cottages, 
were green and beautiful. About six miles before reaching 
Teplitz we passed Kulm, the great battlefield which in a 
measure decided the fate of Napoleon. He sent Van- 
damme with forty thousand men to attack the allies before 
they could unite, their forces, and thus effect their complete 
destruction. Only the almost despairing bravery of the 
Russian guards under Ostermann, who held him in check 
till the allied troops united, prevented Napoleon's design. 
At the junction of the roads, where the fighting was hottest, 
the Austrians have erected a monument to one of their gen- 
erals. Not far from it is that of Prussia, simple and taste- 
ful. A woody hill near, with the little village of Kulm at 
its foot, was the station occupied by Vandamme at the com- 
mencement of the battle. There is now a beautiful chapel 
on its summit which can be seen far and wide. A little 
distance farther the emperor of Russia has erected a third 
monument, to the memory of the Russians who fell. Four 
lions rest on the base of the pedestal, and on the top of the 
shaft, forty-five feet high, Victory is represented as engrav- 
ing the date, "Aug. 30, 1813," on a shield. The dark pine- 
covered mountains on the right overlook the whole field 
and the valley of Teplitz ; Napoleon rode along their crests 
several days after the battle to witness the scene of his 
defeat. 

Teplitz lies in a lovely valley, several miles wide, bounded 
by the Bohemian mountains on one side and the Erzgebirge 
on the other. One straggling peak near is crowned with a 
picturesque ruin, at whose foot the spacious bath-buildings 
lie half hidden in foliage. As we went down the principal 
street I noticed nearly every house was a hotel ; we learned 
afterward that in summer the usual average of visitors is 
five thousand. The waters resemble those of the celebrated 
Carlsbad ; they are warm and particularly efficacious in 



166 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

rheumatism and diseases of like character. After leaving 
Teplitz the road turned to the east, toward a lofty moun- 
tain which we had seen the morning before. The peasants, 
as they passed by, saluted us with " Christ greet you !" 

AVe stopped for the night at the foot of the peak called 
the Milleschauer, and must have ascended nearly two thou- 
sand feet, for we had a wide view the next morning, al- 
though the mists and clouds hid the half of it. The weather 
being so unfavorable, we concluded not to ascend, and, tak- 
ing leave of the Jena student who came there for that pur- 
pose, descended through green fields and orchards snowy 
wath blossoms to Lobositz, on the Elbe. Here we reached 
the plains again, where everything wore the luxuriance of 
summer ; it was a pleasant change from the dark and rough 
scenery we left. 

The road passed through Theresienstadt, the fortress of 
Northern Bohemia. The little city is surrounded by a dou- 
ble wall and moat which can be filled with water, render- 
ing it almost impossible to be taken. In the morning we 
were ferried over the Moldau, and after journeying nearly 
all day across barren, elevated plains saw, late in the after- 
noon, the sixty-seven spires of Prague below^ us. The dark 
clouds which hung over the hills gave us little time to look 
upon the singular scene, and we were soon comfortably set- 
tled in the half-barbaric, half- Asiatic city with a pleasant 
prospect of seeing its wonders on the morrow. 



CHAPTER XX. 

SCENES IN PRAGUE. 



Prague. 
I FEEL as if out of the world in this strange, fantastic, yet 
beautiful, old city. We have been rambling all morning 
through its winding streets, stopping sometimes at a church 



PRAGUE. 16 



nr 



to see the dusty tombs and shrines or to hear the fine music 
which accompanies the morning mass. I have seen no city 
yet that so forcibly reminds one of the past and makes him 
forget everything but the associations connected with the 
scenes around him. The language adds to the illusion. 
Three-fourths of the people in the streets speak Bohemian 
and many of the signs are written in the same tongue, which 
is not at all like German. The palace of the Bohemian 
kings still looks down on the city from the western heights, 
and their tombs stand in the cathedral of the Holy Jo- 
hannes. When one has climbed up the stone steps leading 
to the fortress, there is a glorious prospect before him. 
Prague with its spires and towers lies in the valley below, 
through which curves the Moldau with its green islands, 
disappearing among the hills which enclose the city on 
every side. The fantastic Byzantine architecture of many 
of the churches and towers gives the city a peculiar Oriental 
appearance : it seems to have been transported from the 
hills of Syria. Its streets are full of palaces, fallen and 
dwelt in now by the poorer classes. Its famous university, 
which once boasted forty thousand students, has long since 
ceased to exist. In a word, it is, like Venice, a fallen city, 
though, as in Venice, the improving spirit of the age is be- 
ginning to give it a little life and to send a quicker stream 
through its narrow and winding arteries. The railroad 
which, joining that to Briinn, shall bring it in connection 
with Vienna will be finished this year ; in anticipation of 
the increased business which will arise from this, speculators 
are building enormous hotels in the suburbs and tearing 
down the old buildings to give place to more splendid edi- 
fices. These operations and the chain bridge which spans 
the Moldau toward the southern end of the city are the only 
things which look modern ; everything else is old, strange, 
and solemn. 

Having found out first a few of the locations, we hunted 
our way with difficulty through its labyrinths, seeking out 



168 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

every place of note or interest. Keacliing the bridge at last, 
we concluded to cross over and ascend to the Hradschin, 
.the palace of the Bohemian kings. The bridge was com- 
menced in 1357, and was one hundred and fifty years in 
building. That was the way the old Germans did their 
work, and they made a structure which will last a thousand 
years longer. Every pier is surmounted with groups of 
saints and martyrs, all so worn and timebeaten that there is 
little left of their beauty, if they ever had any. The most 
important of them — at least, to Bohemians — is that of the 
Holy Johannes of Nepomuck, now considered as the patron- 
saint of the land. He was a priest many centuries ago whom 
one of the kings threw from the bridge into the Moldau be- 
cause he refused to reveal to him what the queen confessed. 
The legend says the body swam for some time on the river 
with five stars around its head. The 16th of May, the day 
before we arrived, was that set apart for his particular honor. 
The statue on the bridge was covered with an arch of green 
boughs and flowers, and the shrine lighted with burning 
tapers. A railing was erected around it, near which num- 
bers of the believers were kneeling, and a priest stood in 
the inside. The bridge was covered with passers-by, who 
all took their hats ofi" till they had passed. Had it been a 
place of public worship, the act would have been natural 
and appropriate, but to uncover before a statue seemed to 
us too much like idolatry, and we ventured over without 
doing it. A few years ago it might have been dangerous, 
but now we only met with scowling looks. There are many 
such shrines and statues through the city, and I noticed that 
the people always took off" their hats and crossed themselves 
in passing. On the hill above the western end of the city 
stands a chapel on the spot where the Bavarians put an end 
to Protestantism in Bohemia by the sword, and the deluded 
peasantry of the land make pilgrimages to this spot — as if it 
were rendered holy by an act over which Religion weeps! 
Ascending the broad flight of steps to the Hradschin, I 



DAY-DEEAMING. 169 

paused a moment to look at the scene below. A slight blue 
haze hung over the clustering towers, and the city looked 
dim through it, like a city seen in a dream. It was well 
that it should so appear, for not less dim and misty are the 
memories that haunt its walls. There was no need of a 
magician's wand to bid that light cloud shadow forth the 
forms of other times. They came uncalled for even by 
Fancy. Far, far back in the past I saw the warrior-princess 
who founded the kingly city — the renowned Libussa, whose 
prowess and talent inspired the women of Bohemia to rise 
at her death and storm the land that their sex might rule 
where it obeyed before. On the mountain opposite once 
stood the palace of the bloody Wlaska, who reigned with 
her Amazon band for seven years over half Bohemia. 
Those streets below had echoed with the fiery words of 
Huss, and the castle of his follower — the blind Ziska, who 
met and defeated the armies of the German empire — moul- 
ders on the mountain above. Many a year of war and tem- 
pest has passed over the scene. The hills around have 
borne the armies of Wallenstein and Frederick the Great ; 
the war-cry of Bavaria, Sweden and Poland has echoed in 
the valley, and the red glare of the midnight cannon or the 
flames of burning palaces have often gleamed along the 
" blood-dyed waters " of the Moldau. 

But this was a day-dream ; the throng of people coming 
up the steps waked me out of it. We turned and followed 
them through several spacious courts till we arrived at the 
cathedral, which is magnificent in the extreme. The dark 
Gothic pillars, whose arches unite high above, are sur- 
rounded with gilded monuments and shrines, and the side- 
chapels are rich in elaborate decorations. A priest was 
speaking from a pulpit in the centre in the Bohemian lan- 
guage ; which not being the most intelligible, I went to the 
other end to see the shrine of the Holy Johannes of Nepo- 
muck. It stands at the end of one of the side-aisles, and is 
composed of a mass of gorgeous silver ornaments. At a little 



170 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

distance on each side hang four massive lamps of silver, con- 
stantly burning. The pyramid of statues, of the same pre- 
cious metal, has at each comer a richly-carved urn, three 
feet high, with a crimson lamp burning at the top. Above, 
four silver angels the size of life are suspended in the air, 
holding up the corners of a splendid drapery of crimson 
and gold. If these figures were melted down and distrib- 
uted among the poor and miserable people who inhabit Bo- 
hemia, they would then be angels indeed, bringing happi- 
ness and blessing to many a ruined home-altar. In the 
same chapel is the splendid burial-place of the Bohemian 
kings, of gilded marble and alabaster. Numberless tombs 
covered with elaborate ornamental work fill the edifice. It 
gives one a singular feeling to stand at one end and look 
down the lofty hall, dim with incense-smoke and dark with 
the weight of many centuries. 

On the way down again we stepped into the St. Nicholas 
church, which was built by the Jesuits. The interior has 
a rich effect, being all of brown and gold. The massive 
pillars are made to resemble reddish-brown marble, with 
gilded capitals, and the statues at the base are profusely or- 
namented in the same style. The music chained me there 
a long time. There was a grand organ, assisted by a full 
orchestra and large choir of singers. It was placed above, 
and at every sound of the priest's bell the flourish of trum- 
pets and deep roll of the drums filled the dome with a burst 
of quivering sound, while the giant pipes of the organ 
breathed out their full harmony and the very air shook un- 
der the peal. It was like a triumphal strain. The soul be- 
cam.e filled with thoughts of power and glory ; every sense 
was changed into one dim, indistinct emotion of rapture 
which held the spirit as if spellbound. I could almost for- 
give the Jesuits the superstition and bigotr}^ they have 
planted in the minds of men for the indescribable enjoy- 
ment that music gave. When it ceased, we went out to the 
world again ; and the recollection of it seems now like a 



THE JEWS' CITY. 171 

dream, but a dream whose iniluence will last longer than 
many a more palpable reality. 

Not far from this place is the palace of Wallenstein, in 
the same condition as when he inhabited it, and still in the 
possession of his descendants. It is a plain, large building 
having beautiful gardens attached to it, which are open to 
the public. We went through the court-yard, threaded a 
passage with a roof of rough stalactitic rock and entered 
the garden, where a revolving fountain was casting up its 
glittering arches. Among the flowers at the other end of 
the garden there is a remarkable fountain. It is but a sin- 
gle jet of water which rises from the middle of a broad 
basin of woven wire, but by some means it sustains a hol- 
low gilded ball — sometimes for many minutes at a time. 
When the ball drops, the sloping sides of the basin convey 
it directly to the fountain again, and it is carried up to 
dance a while longer on the top of the jet. I watched it 
once thus supported on the water for full fifteen minutes. 

There is another part of Prague which is not less inter- 
esting, though much less poetical — the Jews' City. In our 
rambles we got into it before we were aware, but hurried 
immediately out of it again, perfectly satisfied with one 
visit. We came first into a dark, narrow street whose 
sides were lined with booths of old clothes and second-hand 
articles. A sharp-featured old woman thrust a coat before 
my face, exclaiming, " Herr, buy a fine coat !" Instantly 
a man assailed me on the other side: "Here are vests! 
Pantaloons ! Shirts !" I broke loose from them and ran 
on, but it only became worse. One seized me by the arm, 
crying, " Lieber Herr, buy some stockings !" and another 
grasped my coat : " Hats, Herr ! hats ! Buy something, or 
sell me something !" I rushed desperately on, shouting 
" No, no !" with all my might, and finally got safe through. 

My friend having escaped their clutches also, we hunted 
the way to the old Jewish cemetery. This stands in the 
middle of the city, and has not been used for a hundred 



172 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

years. We could find no entrance, but by climbing upon 
the ruins of an old house near I could look over the wall. 
A cold shudder crept over me to think that warm, joyous 
life, as I then felt it, should grow chill and pass back to 
clay in such a foul charnel-house. Large mounds of earth 
covered with black, decaying gravestones which were 
almost hidden under the weeds and rank grass filled the 
inclosure. A few dark, crooked alder trees grew among 
the crumbling tombs and gave the scene an air of gloom 
and desolation almost fearful. The dust of many a genera- 
tion lies under these mouldering stones ; they now scarcely 
occupy a thought in the minds of the living ; and yet the 
present race toils and seeks for wealth alone, that it may 
pass away and leave nothing behind — not even a memory 
— for that which will follow it." 



CHAPTER XXI. 

JOUENEY THROUGH EASTERN BOHEMIA AND MORAVIA 
TO THE DANUBE. 

Our road the first two days after leaving Prague led 
across broad, elevated plains across which a cold wind came 
direct from the summits of the Riesengebirge, far to our left. 
Were it not for the pleasant view we had of the rich valley 
of the Upper Elbe, which afforded a delightful relief to the 
monotony of the hills around us, the journey would have 
been exceedingly tiresome. The snow still glistened on the 
distant mountains ; but when the sun shone out, the broad 
valley below, clad in the luxuriance of summer and extend- 
ing for at least fifty miles with its woods, meadows and white 
villages, looked like a real Paradise. The long ridges over 
which we travelled extend for nearly a hundred and fifty 
miles — from the Elbe almost to the Danube. The soil is 



BOHEMIA. 173 

not fertile, the inhabitants are exceedingly poor, and, from 
our own experience, the climate must be unhealthy. In 
winter the country is exposed to the full sweep of the 
northern winds, and in summer the snn shines down on it 
with unbroken force. There are few streams running 
through it, and the highest part,* which divides the waters 
of the Baltic from those of the Black Sea, is filled for a 
long distance with marshes and standing pools whose exha- 
lations must inevitably subject the inhabitants to disease. 
This was perceptible in their sallow, sickly countenances ; 
many of the women are afflicted with the goitre, or swelling 
of the throat ; I noticed that toward evening they always 
carefully muffled up their faces. According to their own 
statements, the people suffer much from the cold in winter, 
as the few forests the country affords are in possession of the 
noblemen to whom the land belongs, and they are not will- 
ing to let them be cut down. The dominions of these petty 
despots are marked along the road with as much precision 
as the boundaries of an empire ; w^e saw sometimes their 
stately castles at a distance, forming quite a contrast to the 
poor scattering villages of the peasants. 

At Kollin the road, w^hich had been running eastward in 
the direction of Olmutz, turned to the south, and we took 
leave of the Elbe after tracing back his course from Magde- 
burg nearly to his home in the mountains of Silesia. The 
country was barren and monotonous, but a bright sunshine 
made it look somewhat cheerful. We passed every few 
j)aces some shrine or statue by the roadside. This had 
struck me immediately on crossing the border in the Saxon 
Switzerland : it seemed as if the boundary of Saxony was 
that of Protestantism. But here, in the heart of Bohemia, 
the extent to which this image-worship is carried exceeds 
anything I had imagined. There is something pleasing as 
well as poetical in the idea of a shrine by the wayside 
w^liere the weary traveller can rest and raise his heart in 
thankfulness to the Power that protects him. It was, no 



174 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

doubt, a pious spirit that placed them there, but the people 
appear to pay the reverence to the picture which they should 
give to its spiritual image, and the pictures themselves are 
so shocking and ghastly they seem better calculated to excite 
horror than reverence. It was really repulsive to look on 
images of the Saviour covered with blood, and generally 
with swords sticking in different parts of the body. The 
Almighty is represented as an old man wearing a bishop's 
mitre, and the image of the Virgin is always dressed in a 
gay silk robe with beads and other ornaments. From the 
miserable painting, the faces often had an expression that 
would have been exceedingly ludicrous if the shock given 
to our feelings of reverence were not predominant. The 
poor degraded peasants always uncovered or crossed them- 
selves when passing by these shrines, but it appeared to be 
rather the effect of habit than any good impulse, for the 
Bohemians are noted all over Germany for their dishonesty ; 
we learned by experience they deserve it. It is not to be 
wondered at, either; for a people so poor and miserable and 
oppressed will soon learn to take advantage of all who ap- 
pear better off than themselves. They had one custom which 
was touching and beautiful : at the sound of the church- 
bell, as it rung the morning, noon and evening chimes, every 
one uncovered and repeated to himself a prayer. Often, as 
we rested at noon on a bank by the roadside, that voice 
spoke out from the house of vforship, and every one heeded 
its tone. Would that to this innate spirit of reverence were 
added the light of Knowledge which a tyrannical govern- 
ment denies them. 

The tliird night of our journey we stopped at the little 
village of Stecken, and the next morning, after three hours' 
walk over the ridgy heights, reached the old Moravian city 
of Iglau, built on a hill. It happened to be Corpus Christi 
day, and the peasants of the neighborhood were hastening 
there in their gayest dresses. The young women wore a 
crimson scarf around the head with long fringed and em- 



STRANGE TEAMS. 175 

broidered ends hanging over the shoulders or falling in one 
smooth fold from the back of the head. They were attired 
in black velvet vests with full white sleeves, and skirts of 
some gay color which were short enough to show to advan- 
tage their red stockings and polished shoe-buckles. Many 
of them were not deficient in personal beauty : there was a 
gipsy-like wildness in their eyes that, combined with 
their rich hair and graceful costume, reminded me of the 
Italian maidens. The towns, too, with their open squares 
and arched passages, have quite a Southern look, but the 
damp, gloomy weather was enough to dispel any illusion of 
this kind. 

In the neighborhood of Iglau — and, in fact, through the 
v/hole of Bohemia — we saw some of the strangest teams 
that could well be imagined. I thought the Frankfort 
milkwomen with their donkeys and hearse-like carts were 
comical objects enough, but they bear no comparison with 
these Bohemian turnouts. Dogs — ^for economy's sake, per- 
haps — generally supply the place of oxen or horses, and it 
is no uncommon thing to see three large mastiffs abreast 
harnessed to a country-cart. A donkey and a cow together 
are sometimes met with, and one man going to the festival 
at Iglau had his Vv^ife and children in a little wagon drawn 
by a dog and a donkey. These two, however, did not work 
well together : the dog would bite his lazy companion, and 
the man's time was constantly employed in whipping him 
off the donkey and in whipping the donkey away from the 
side of the road. Once I saw a wagon drawn by a dog 
with a women pushing behind, while a man — doubtless her 
lord and master — sat comfortably within smoking his pipe 
with the greatest complacency. The very climax of all 
was a woman and a dog harnessed together taking a load 
of country produce to market. I hope, for the honor of 
the country, it was not emblematic of woman's condition 
there. But, as we saw hundreds of them breaking stone 
along the road and occupied at other laborious and not 



176 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

less menial labor, there is too mucH reason to fear that it 
is so. 

As we approached Iglau we heard cannon-firing. The 
crowd increased, and, following the road, we came to an 
open square where a large number were already assembled ; 
shrines were erected around it hung with pictures and pine- 
boughs, and a long procession of children was passing 
down the side as we entered. We went toward the middle, 
where Neptune and his Tritons poured the water from their 
urns into two fountains, and stopped to observe the scene. 
The procession came on, headed by a large body of priests 
in w^hite robes, with banners and crosses. They stopped 
before the principal shrine, in front of the Rathhaus, and 
began a solemn religious ceremony. The whole crowd of 
not less than ten thousand persons stood silent and un- 
covered, and the deep voice of the officiating priest was 
heard over the whole square. At times the multitude sang 
responses, and I could mark the sound swelling and rolling 
up like a mighty wave till it broke and slowly sank down 
again to the deepest stillness. The effect was marred by 
the rough voice of the officers commanding the soldiery 
and the volleys of musketry which were occasionally dis- 
charged. It degraded the solemnity of the pageant to the 
level of a military parade. 

In the afternoon we were overtaken by a travelling 
handwerker on his way to Vienna, who joined company 
with us. We walked several miles together, talking on 
various matters, without his having the least suspicion we 
were not Germans. He had been at Trieste, and at length 
began speaking of the great beauty of the American ves- 
sels there. " Yes," said I, " our vessels are admired all 
over the woi'ld." He stared at me without comprehending : 
" Your vessels ?" — " Our country's," I replied. " We are 
Americans." I can see still his look of incredulous aston- 
ishment and hear the amazed tone with which he cried : 
" You Americans ? It is impossible !" We convinced him. 



A WANDERING JOURNEYMAN. 177 

nevertheless, to his great joy, for all through Germany there 
is a curiosity to see our countrymen and a kindly feeling 
toward them. " I shall write down in my book," said he, 
" so that I shall never forget it, that I once travelled with 
two Americans." 

We stopped together for the night at the only inn in a 
large, beggarly village, wdiere we obtained a frugal supper 
with difficulty, for a regiment of Polish lancers was quar- 
tered there for the night, and the pretty keUnerin was so 
busy in waiting on the officers that she had no eye for wan- 
dering journeymen, as she took us to be. She even told us 
the beds were all occupied and we must sleep on the floor. 
Just then the landlord came by. " Is it possible, Herr Land- 
lord," asked our new companion, " that there is no bed here 
for us ? Have the goodness to look again, for we are not 
in the habit of sleeping on the floor like dogs." This speech 
had its effect, for the kellnerin was commanded to find us 
beds. She came back unwillingly after a time and reported 
that two only were vacant. As a German bed is only a 
yard wide, we pushed these two together ; but they were 
still too small for three persons, and I had a severe cold in 
the morning from sleeping crouched up against the damp 
wall. 

The next day we passed the dividing-ridge, which sepa- 
rates the waters of the Elbe from the Danube, and in the 
evening arrived at Znaim, the capital of Moravia. It is 
built on a steep hill looking down on the valley of the 
Thaya, whose waters mingle with the Danube near Press- 
burg. The old castle on the height near was formerly the 
residence of the Moravian monarchs, and traces of the an- 
cient walls and battlements of the city are still to be seen. 
The handwerker took us to the inn frequented by his craft 
— ^the leather-curriers — and we conversed together till bed- 
time. While telling me of the opressive laws of Austria, 
the degrading vassalage of the peasants and the horrors of 
the conscription system, he paused as in deep thought, and, 
12 



178 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

looking at me with a suppressed sigh, said, " Is it not true 
America is free ?" I told him of our country and her in- 
stitutions, adding that, though we were not yet as free as 
we hoped and wished to be, we enjoyed far more liberty 
than any country in the world. "Ah !" said he ; " it is hard 
to leave one's fatherland, oppressed as it is, but I wish I 
could go to America." We left next morning at eight 
o'clock, after having done full justice to the beds of the 
Golden Stag and taken leave of Florian Francke, the hon- 
est and hearty old landlord. 

Znaim appears to great advantage from the Vienna road ; 
the wind, which blew with fury against our backs, would 
not permit us to look long at it, but pushed us on toward 
the Austrian border. In the course of three hours we were 
obliged to stop at a little village ; it blew a perfect hurri- 
cane, and the rain began to soak through our garments. 
Here we stayed three hours among the wagoners who stop- 
ped on account of the weather. One miserable drunken 
wretch whom one would not wish to look at more than once 
distinguished himself by insulting those around him and 
devouring like a beast large quantities of food. When the 
reckoning was given him, he declared he had already paid, 
and, the waiter denying it, he said, " Stop ! I will show you 
something!" pulled out his passport and pointed to the 
name — " Baron von Reitzenstein." It availed nothing : he 
had fallen so low that his title inspired no respect ; and 
when we left the inn, they were still endeavoring to get their 
money and threatening him with a summary proceeding if 
the demand was not complied with. 

Next morning the sky was clear, and a glorious day 
opened before us. The country became more beautiful as 
we approached the Danube ; the hills were covered with 
vineyards just in the tender green of their first leaves, and 
the rich valleys lay in Sabbath stillness in the warm sun- 
shine. Sometimes from an eminence we could see far and 
wide over the garden-like slopes, where little white villages 



THE ALPS AND THE DANUBE. 179 

shone among the blossoming fruit trees. A chain of blue 
hills rose in front, which I knew almost instinctively stood 
by the Danube. When we climbed to the last height and 
began to descend to the valley, where the river was still 
hidden by luxuriant groves, I saw far to the southwest a 
range of faint silvery summits rising through the dim ether 
like an airy vision. There was no mistaking those snowy 
mountains. My heart bounded with a sudden thrill of rap- 
turous excitement at this first view of the Alps. They were 
at a great distance, and their outline was almost blended 
with the blue drapery of air which clothed them. I gazed 
till my vision became dim and I could no longer trace their 
airy lines. They called up images blended with the grand- 
est events in the world's history. I thought of the glorious 
spirits who have looked upon them and trodden their rug- 
ged sides, of the storms in which they veil their counte- 
nances and the avalanches they hurl thundering to the val- 
leys, of the voices of great deeds which have echoed from 
their crags over the wide earth, and of the ages which have 
broken like the waves of a mighty sea upon their everlast- 
ing summits. 

As we descended, the hills and forests shut out this sub- 
lime vision, and I looked to the wood-clothed mountains 
opposite and tried to catch a glimpse of the current that 
rolled at their feet. We here entered upon a rich plain about 
ten miles in diameter which lay between a backward sweep 
of the hills and a curve of the Danube. It was covered with 
the richest grain ; everything wore the luxuriance of sum- 
mer, and we seemed to have changed seasons since leaving 
the dreary hills of Bohemia. Continuing over the plain, 
we had on our left the fields of Wagram and Essling, the 
scene of two of Napoleon's blood-bought victories. The out- 
posts of the Carpathians skirted the horizon — that great 
mountain-range which stretches through Hungary to the 
borders of Russia. 

At length the road came to the river's side, and we crossed 



180 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

on wooden bridges over two or three arms of the Danube, 
all of which together were little wider than the Schuylkill 
at Philadelphia. When we crossed the last bridge, we came 
to a kind of island covered with groves of silver ash. Crowds 
of people filled the cool walks ; booths of refreshment stood 
by the roadside and music was everywhere heard. The 
road finally terminated in a circle where beautiful alleys 
radiated into the groves; from the opposite side a broad 
street lined with stately buildings extended into the heart 
of the city, and through this avenue, filled with crowds 
of carriages and people on their way to those delightful 
walks, we entered Vienna. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

VIENNA. 

May 31. 

I HAVE at last seen the thousand wonders of this great 
capital, this German Paris, this connecting-link between the 
civilization of Europe and the barbaric magnificence of the 
East. It looks familiar to be in a city again whose streets 
are thronged with people and resound with the din and 
bustle of business. It reminds me of the never-ending crowds 
of London or the life and tumult of our scarcely less active 
New York. Although the end may be sordid for which so 
many are laboring, yet the very sight of so much activity is 
gratifying. It is peculiarly so to an American. After re- 
siding in a foreign land for some time the peculiarities of 
our nation are more easily noticed ; I find in my country- 
men abroad a vein of restless energy — a love for exciting 
action — which to many of our good German friends is per- 
fectly incomprehensible. It might have been this which 
gave at once a favorable impression of Vienna. 

The morning of our arrival we sallied out from our lodg- 
ings in the Leopoldstadt to explore the world before us. 



VIENNA. 181 

Entering the broad Praterstrasse, we passed down to the 
little arm of the Danube which separates this part of the 
new city from the old. A row of magnificent coffee-houses 
occupy the bank, and numbers of persons were taking their 
breakfasts in the shady porticoes. The Ferdinand's Bridge, 
which crosses the stream, was filled with people; in the 
motley crowd we saw the dark-eyed Greek, and Turks in 
their turbans and flowing robes. Little brown Hungarian 
boys were going around selling bunches of lilies, and Italians 
with baskets of oranges stood by the sidewalk. The throng 
became greater as we penetrated into the old city. The 
streets were filled with carts and carriages, and, as there 
are no side-pavements, it required constant attention to keep 
out of their way. Splendid shops fitted up with great taste 
occupied the whole of the lower stories, and goods of all 
kinds hung beneath the canvas awnings in front of them. 
Almost every store or shop was dedicated to some particular 
person or place, which was represented on a large panel by 
the door. The number of these paintings added much to 
the splendor of the scene ; I was gratified to find, among the 
images of kings and dukes, one dedicated " To the Ameri- 
can," with an Indian chief in full costume. 

. The Altstadt, or " old city," which contains about sixty 
thousand inhabitants, is completely separated from the sub- 
urbs, whose population, taking the whole extent within the 
outer barrier, numbers nearly half a million. It is situated 
on a small arm of the Danube and encompassed by a series 
of public promenades, gardens and walks, varying from a 
quarter to half a mile in length, called the " Glacis." This 
formerly belonged to the fortifications of the city, but, as 
the suburbs grew up so rapidly on all sides, it was changed 
appropriately to a public walk. The city is still surrounded 
with a massive wall and a deep wide moat, but, since it was 
taken by Napoleon in 1809, the moat has been changed into 
a garden with a beautiful carriage-road along the bottom 
around the whole city. It is a beautiful sight to stand on 



182 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the summit of the wall and look over the broad Glacis, with 
its shady roads branching in every direction and filled with 
inexhaustible streams of people. The Vorstaedte, or new 
cities, stretch in a circle around beyond this ; all the finest 
buildings front on the Glacis, among which the splendid 
Vienna Theatre and the church of San Carlo Borromeo are 
conspicuous. The mountains of the Vienna Forest bound 
the view, with here and there a stately castle on their woody 
summits. I was reminded of London as seen from Regent's 
Park, and truly this part of Vienna can well compare with 
it. On penetrating into the suburbs the resemblance is at 
an end. Many of the public thoroughfares are still un- 
paved, and in dry weather one is almost choked by the 
clouds of fine dust. A furious wind blows from the moun- 
tains, sweeping the streets almost constantly and filling the 
eyes and ears with it, making the city an unhealthy resi- 
dence for strangers. 

There is no lack of places for pleasure or amusement. 
Besides the numberless walks of the Glacis there are the 
imperial gardens, with their cool shades and flowers and 
fountains ; the Augarten, laid out and opened to the public 
by the emperor Joseph: and the Prater, the largest and 
most beautiful of all. It lies on an island formed by the. 
arms of the Danube, and is between two and three miles 
square. From the circle at the end of the Praterstrasse 
broad carriage-ways extend through its forests of oak and 
silver ash and over its verdant lawns to the principal stream, 
which bounds it on the north. These roads are lined with 
stately horse-chestnuts, whose branches unite and form a 
dense canopy, completely shutting out the sun. Every 
afternoon the beauty and nobility of Vienna whirl through 
the cool groves in their gay equipages, while the sidewalks 
are thronged with pedestrians, and the numberless tables 
and seats with which every house of refreshment is sur- 
rounded are filled with merry guests. Here on Sundays 
and holidays the people repair in thousands. The woods 



THE BELVIDERE GALLERY. 183 

are full of tame deer, which run perfectly free over the 
whole Prater. I saw several in one of the lawns lying 
down in the grass, with a number of children playing 
around or sitting beside them. It is delightful to walk 
there in the cool of the evening, when the paths are crowded 
and everybody is enjoying the release from the dusty city. 
It is this free social life which renders Vienna so attractive 
to foreigners and draws yearly thousands of visitors from 
all parts of Europe. 

St. Stephen's cathedral, in the centre of the old city, is 
one of the finest specimens of Gothic architecture in Ger- 
many. Its unrivalled tower, which rises to the height of 
four hundred and twenty-eight feet, is visible from every 
part of Vienna. It is entirely of stone, most elaborately 
ornamented, and is supposed to be the strongest in Europe. 
If the tower was finished, it might rival any church in Eu- 
rojDe in richness and brilliancy of appearance. The inside 
is solemn and grand, but the effect is injured by the number 
of small chapels and shrines. In one of these rests the 
remains of Prince Eugene of Savoy, ^' Der edle Bitter," 
known in a ballad to every man, woman and child in 
Germany. 

The Belvidere Gallery fills thirty-five halls and contains 
three thousand pictures. It is absolutely bewildering to 
walk through such vast collections ; you can do no more 
than glance at each painting, and hurry by face after face 
and figure after figure on which you would willingly gaze 
for hours and inhale the atmosphere of beauty that sur- 
rounds them. Then, after you leave, the brain is filled with 
their forms ; radiant spirit-faces look upon you, and you see 
constantly in fancy the calm brow of a Madonna, the sweet 
young face of a child or the blending of divine with mortal 
beauty in an angel's countenance. I endeavor, if possible, 
always to make several visits — to study those pictures which 
cling first to the memory and pass over those which make 
little or no impression. It is better to have a few images 



184 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

fresh and enduring than a confused and indistinct memory 
of many. 

From the number of Madonnas in every European gal- 
lery, it would almost seem that the old artists painted nothing 
else. The subject is one which requires the highest genius 
to do it justice, and it is therefore unpleasant to see so many 
still, inexpressive faces of the Virgin and Child, particularly 
by the Dutch artists, who clothe their figures sometimes in 
the stiff costume of their own time. Raphael and Murillo 
appear to me to be almost the only painters who have ex- 
pressed what perhaps was above the power of other mas- 
ters — the combined love and reverence of the mother and 
the divine expression in the face of the Child, prophetic of 
his mission and godlike power. 

There were many glorious old paintings in the second 
story, which is entirely taken up with pictures ; two or three 
of the halls were devoted to selected works from modern 
artists. Two of these I would give everything I have to 
possess. One of them is a winter scene representing the 
portico of an old Gothic church. At the base of one of the 
pillars a woman is seated in the snow, half benumbed, clasp- 
ing an infant to her breast, while immediately in front stands 
a boy of perhaps seven or eight years, his little hands folded 
in prayer, while the chill wind tosses the long curls from 
his forehead. There is something so pure and holy in the 
expression of his childish countenance, so much feeling in 
the lip and sorrowful eye, that it moves one almost to tears 
to look upon it. I turned back half a dozen times from the 
other pictures to view it again, and blessed the artist in my 
heart for the lesson he gave. The other is by a young Italian 
painter whose name I have forgotten, but who, if he never 
painted anything else, is worthy a high place among the ar- 
tists of his country. It represents some scene from the his- 
tory of Venice. On an open piazza a noble prisoner wasted 
and pale from long confinement has just had an interview 
with his children. He reaches his arm toward them as if 



MONTEZUMA'S BATTLE-AXE. 185 

for the last time, while a savage keeper drags him away. 
A lovely little girl kneels at the feet of the doge, but there 
is no compassion in his stern features, and it is easy to see that 
her father is doomed. 

The Lower Belvidere, separated from the Upper by a 
large garden laid out in the style of that at Versailles, con- 
tains the celebrated Ambraser Sammlung, a collection of 
armor. In the first hall I noticed the complete armor of 
the emperor Maximilian for man and horse, the armor of 
Charles V. and Prince Moritz of Saxony, while the walls 
were filled with figures of German nobles and knights in the 
suits they wore in life. There is also the armor of the great 
" Baver of Trient," trabant of the archduke Ferdinand. 
He was nearly nine feet in stature, and his spear, though 
not equal to Satan's in Paradise Lost^ would still make a 
tree of tolerable dimensions. 

In the second hall we saw weapons taken from the Turk- 
ish army who besieged Vienna, with the horse-tail standards 
of the grand vizier Kara Mustapha. The most interesting 
article was the battle-axe of the unfortunate Montezuma, 
which was probably given to the emperor Charles V. by 
Cortez. It is a plain instrument of dark-colored stone about 
three feet long. 

We also visited the Burgerliche Zeughaus, a collection of 
arms and weapons belonging to the citizens of Vienna. It 
contains sixteen thousand weapons and suits of armor, in- 
cluding those plundered from the Turks when John Sobieski 
conquered them and relieved Vienna from the siege. Be- 
sides a great number of sabres, lances, and horsetails, there 
is the blood-red banner of the grand vizier, as well as his 
skull and shroud, which is covered with sentences from the 
Koran. On his return to Belgrade after the defeat at 
Vienna the sultan sent him a bowstring, and he was ac- 
cordingly strangled. The Austrians having taken Belgrade 
some time after, they opened his grave and carried ofi* his 
skull and shroud, as well as the bowstring, as relics. An- 



186 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

other large and richly-embroidered banner which hung in 
a broad sheet from the ceiling was far more interesting to 
me. It had once waved from the vessels of the Knights of 
Malta, and had, perhaps, on the prow of the grand master's 
ship, led that romantic band to battle against the Infidel. 

A large number of peasants and common soldiers were 
admitted to view the armory at the same time. The grave 
Gustode who showed us the curiosities, explaining everything 
in phrases known by heart for years and making the same 
starts of admiration whenever he came to anything peculi- 
arly remarkable, singled us out as the two persons most wor- 
thy of attention. Accordingly, his remarks were directed 
entirely to us, and his humble countrymen might as well 
have been invisible, for the notice he took of them. On 
passing out we gave him a coin worth about fifteen cents, 
which happened to be so much more than the others gave 
him that, bowing graciously, he invited us to write our 
names in the album for strangers. While we were doing 
this a poor handwerker lingered behind, apparently for the 
same object, whom he scornfully dismissed, shaking the fif- 
teen-cent piece in his hand and saying, " The album is not 
for such as you : it is for noble gentlemen." 

On our way through the city we often noticed a house on 
the southern side of St. Stephen's Platz dedicated to " the 
iron stick." In a niche by the window stood what appeared 
to be the limb of a tree completely filled with nails, which 
w^ere driven in so thick that no part of the original wood is 
visible. We learned afterward the legend concerning it. 
The Vienna Forest is said to have extended, several hun- 
dred years ago, to this place. A locksmith's apprentice was 
enabled, by the devil's help, to make the iron bars and pad- 
lock which confine the limb in its place ; every locksmith's 
apprentice who came to Vienna after that drove a nail into 
it, till finally there was room for no more. It is a singular 
legend, and, whoever may have placed the limb there orig- 



STKAUSS. 187 

inally, there it has remained for two or three hundred years 
at least. 

We spent two or three hours delightfully one evening in 
listening to Strauss's band. We went about sunset to the 
Odeon, a new building in the Leopoldstadt. It has a re- 
freshment-hall nearly five hundred feet long, with a hand- 
some fresco ceiling and glass doors opening into a garden- 
walk of the same length. Both the hall and garden were 
filled with tables, where the people seated themselves as they 
came and conversed sociably over their coffee and wine. 
The orchestra was placed in a little ornamental temple in 
the garden, in front of which I stationed myself, for I was 
anxious to see the world's waltz-king whose magic tones can 
set the heels of half Christendom in motion. After the 
baneViiad finished tuning their instruments, a middle-sized, 
handsome man stepped forward with long strides, with a 
violin in one hand and bow in the other, and began wav- 
ing the latter up and down, like a magician summoning his 
spirits. As if he had waved the sound out of his bow, the 
tones leaped forth from the instruments, and, guided by his 
eye and hand, fell into a merry measure. The accuracy 
with which every instrument performed its part was truly 
marvellous. He could not have struck the measure or the 
harmony more certainly from the keys of his own piano 
than from that large band. The sounds struggled forth so 
perfect and distinct that one almost expected to see them 
embodied, whirling in wild dance around him. Sometimes 
the air was so exquisitely light and bounding the feet could 
scarcely keep on the earth ; then it sank into a mournful 
lament with a sobbing tremulousness, and died away in a 
long-breathed sigh. Strauss seemed to feel the music in 
every limb. He would wave his fiddle-bow a while, then 
commence playing with desperate energy, moving his whole 
body to the measure, till the sweat rolled from his brow. A 
book was lying on the stand before him, but he made no 
use of it. He often glanced around with a kind of half- 



188 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

triumphant smile at the restless crowd, whose feet could 
scarcely be restrained from bounding to the magic measure. 
It was the horn of Oberon realized. The composition of 
the music displayed great talent, but its charm consisted 
more in the exquisite combination of the different instru- 
ments, and the perfect, the wonderful, exactness with which 
each performed its part — a piece of art of the most elabo- 
rate and refined character. 

The company, which consisted of several hundred, ap- 
peared to be full of enjoyment. They sat under the trees 
in the calm, cool twilight with the stars twinkling above, 
and talked and laughed sociably together between the 
pauses of the music, or strolled up and down the lighted 
alleys. We walked up and down with them, and thought 
how much we should enjoy such a scene at home, where the 
faces around us would be those of friends and the language 
our mother-tongue. 

We went a long way through the suburbs one bright 
afternoon to a little cemetery about a mile from the city to 
find the grave of Beethoven. On ringing at the gate a girl 
admitted us into the grounds, in which are many monu- 
ments of noble families who have vaults there. I passed 
up the narrow walk, reading the inscriptions, till I came to 
the tomb of Franz Clement, a young composer who died 
two or three years ago. On turning again my eye fell in- 
stantly on the word " Beethoven " in golden letters on a 
tombstone of gray marble. A simple gilded lyre decorated 
the pedestal, above which was a serpent encircling a but- 
terfly — the emblem of resurrection to eternal life. Here, 
then, mouldered the remains of that restless spirit who 
seemed to have strayed to earth from another clime, from such 
a height did he draw his glorious conceptions. The perfec- 
tion he sought for here in vain he has now attained in a 
world where the soul is freed from the bars which bind it 
in this. There were no flowers planted around the tomb 
by those who revered his genius ; only one wreath, with- 



THE IMPEKIAL LIBEAEY. 189 

ered and dead, lay among the grass, as if left long ago by 
some solitary pilgrim, and a few wild buttercups bung with 
their bright blossoms over the slab. It might have been 
wrono", but I could not resist the temptation to steal one or 
two while the old gravedigger was busy preparing a new 
tenement. I thought that other buds would open in a few 
days, but those I took would be treasured many a year as 
sacred relics. A few paces off is the grave of Schubert, 
the composer whose beautiful songs are heard all over 
Germany. 

It would employ one a week to visit all the rich collec- 
tions of art in Vienna. They are all open to the public on 
certain days of the week, and we have been kept constantly 
in motion running from one part of the city to another in 
order to arrive at some gallery at the appointed time. 
Tickets — which have to be procured, often, in quite differ- 
ent parts of the city — are necessary for admittance to 
many ; on applying, after much trouble and search, we 
frequently found we came at the wrong hour and must 
leave without effecting our object. We employed no guide, 
but preferred finding everything ourselves. We made a 
list every morning of the collections open during the day, 
and employed the rest of the time in visiting the churches 
and public gardens or rambling through. the suburbs. 

We visited the imperial library a day or two ago. The 
hall is two hundred and forty-five feet long, with a magnif- 
icent dome in the centre, under which stands the statue of 
Charles V., of Carrara marble, surrounded by twelve 
-^'Jher monarchs of the house of Hapsburg. The walls are 
of variegated marble richly ornamented with gold, and the 
ceiling and dome are covered with brilliant fresco-paintings. 
The library numbers three hundred thousand volumes and 
sixteen thousand manuscripts, which are kept in walnut 
cases gilded and adorned with medallions. The rich and 
harmonious effect of the whole cannot easily be imagined. 
It is exceedingly appropriate that a hall of such splendor 



190 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

should be used to hold a library. The pomp of a palace 
may seem hollow and vain, for it is but the dwelling of a 
man ; but no building can be too magnificent for the hun- 
dreds of great and immortal spirits to dwell in who have 
visited earth during thirty centuries. 

Among other curiosities preserved in the collection, we 
were shown a brass plate containing one of the records of 
the Roman Senate made one hundred and eighty years be* 
fore Christ, Greek manuscripts of the fifth and sixth cen- 
turies, and a volume of Psalms printed on parchment in 
the year 1457 by Faust and Schaeffer, the inventors of 
printing. There were also Mexican manuscripts presented 
by Cortez, the prayer-book of Hildegard, wife of Char- 
lemagne, in letters of gold, the signature of San Carlo Bor- 
romeo, and a Greek Testament of the thirteenth century 
which had been used by Erasmus in making his translation 
and contains notes in his own hand. The most interesting 
article was the " Jerusalem Delivered " of Tasso, in the 
poet's own hand, with his erasions and corrections. 

We also visited the cabinet of natural history, which is 
open twice a week " to all respectably-dressed persons," as 
the notice at the door says. But Heaven forbid that I 
should attempt to describe what we saw there ! The min- 
eral cabinet had a greater interest to me, inasmuch as it 
called up the recollections of many a schoolboy ramble 
over the hills and into all kinds of quarries, far and near. 
It is said to be the most perfect collection in existence. I 
was pleased to find many old acquaintances there from the 
mines of Pennsylvania ; Massachusetts and New Yoi:k were 
also very well represented. I had no idea before that the 
mineral wealth of Austria was so great. Besides the iron- 
and lead-mines among the hills of Styria and the quick- 
silver of Idria, there is no small amount of gold and silver 
found, and the Carpathian Mountains are rich in jasper, 
opal and lapis lazuli. The largest opal ever found was in 



AUSTKIAN ROYAL EQUIPAGES. 191 

this collection. It weighs thirty-four ounces and looks like 
a condensed rainbow. 

In passing the palace we saw several persons entering the 
basement-story under the library, and had the curiosity to 
follow them. By so doing we saw the splendid equipages 
of the house of Austria. There must have been near a 
hundred carriages and sleds, of every shape and style, from 
the heavy square vehicle of the last century to the most 
light and elegant conveyance of the present day. One 
clumsy but magnificent machine of crimson and gold was 
pointed out as being a hundred and fifty years old. The 
misery we witnessed in starving Bohemia formed a striking 
contrast to all this splendor. 

Besides the imperial picture-gallery, there are several be- 
longing to princes and noblemen in Vienna which are 
scarcely less valuable. The most important of these is that 
of Prince Liechtenstein, which we visited yesterday. We 
applied to the porter's lodge for admittance to the gallery, 
but he refused to open it for two persons ; as we did not 
wish a long walk for nothing, we concluded to wait for other 
visitors. Presently a gentleman and lady came and inquired 
if the gallery was open. We told him it would probably 
be opened now, although the porter required a larger num- 
ber, and he went to ask. After a short time he returned, 
saying, " He will come immediately. I thought best to put 
the number a little higher, and so I told him there were six 
of us." 

Having little artistic knowledge of paintings, I judge of 
them according to the efiect they produce upon me in pro- 
portion as they gratify the innate love for the beautiful and 
the true. I have been, therefore, disappointed in some 
painters whose names are widely known, and surprised, 
again, to find works of great beauty by others of smaller 
fame. Judging by such a standard, I should say that 
" Cupid sleeping in the Lap of Venus," by Correggio, is the 
glory of this collection. The beautiful limbs of the boy-god 



192 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

droop in the repose of slumber as his head rests on his 
mother's knee, and there is a smile lingering around his 
half-parted lips, as if he was dreaming new triumphs. The 
face is not that of the wicked, mischief-loving child, but 
rather a sweet cherub bringing a blessing to all he visits. 
The figure of the goddess is exquisite. Her countenance, 
unearthly in its loveliness, expresses the tenderness of a 
young mother as she sits with one finger pressed on her rosy 
iip watching his slumber. It is a picture which " stings the 
brain with beauty." 

The chapel of St. Augustine contains one of the best 
works of Canova — the monument of the grand duchess 
Maria Christina of Sachsen-Teschen. It is a pyramid of 
gray marble, twenty-eight feet high, with an opening in the 
side representing the entrance to a sepulchre. A female 
figure personating Virtue bears in an urn to the grave the 
ashes of the departed, attended by two children with torches. 
The figure of Compassion follows, leading an aged beggar 
to the tomb of his benefactor, and a little child with its 
hands folded. On the lower step rests a mourning genius 
beside a sleeping lion, and a bas-relief on the pyramid above 
represents an angel carrying Christina's image, surrounded 
with the emblem of eternity, to heaven. A spirit of deep 
sorrow, which is touchingly portrayed in the countenance 
of the old man, pervades the whole group. While we look- 
ed at it the organ breathed out a slow, mournful strain 
which harmonized so fully with the expression of the figures 
that we seemed to be listening to the requiem of the one 
they mourned. The combined effect of music and sculp- 
ture thus united in their deep pathos was such that I could 
have sat down and wept. It was not from sadness at the 
death of a benevolent though unknown individual, but the 
feeling of grief, of perfect, unmingled sorrow, so powerfully 
represented, came to the heart like an echo of its own emo- 
tion and carried it away with irresistible influence. Trav- 
ellers have described the same feeling while listening to the 



A CEUSTY GUIDE. 193 

Miserere in the Sistine Chapel at Rome. Canova could not 
have chiselled the monument without tears. 

One of the most interesting objects in Vienna is the im- 
perial armory. We were admitted through tickets pre- 
viously procured from the armory direction; as there was 
already one large company within, we were told to wait in 
the court till our turn came. Around the wall, on the in- 
side, is suspended the enormous chain which the Turks 
stretched across the Danube at Buda in the year 1529 to 
obstruct the navigation. It has eight thousand links and is 
nearly a mile in length. The court is filled with cannon of 
all shapes and sizes, many of which were conquered from 
other nations. I saw a great many which were cast during 
the French Revolution, with the words "Liberie! Egaliur 
upon them, and a number of others bearing the simple let- 
ler " N." V ^^ 

Finally the first company came down, and the forty or 
fifty persons who had collected during the interval were ad- 
mitted. The armory runs around a hollow square, and 
must be at least a quarter of a mile in length. We were 
all taken into a circular hall made entirely of weapons, to 
represent the four quarters of the globe. Here the crusty 
old guide who admitted us rapped with his stick on the 
shield of an old knight who stood near to keep silence and 
then addressed us: "When I speak, every one must be si- 
lent. No one can write or draw anything. No one shall 
touch anything or go to look at anything else before I have 
done speaking. Otherwise, they shall be taken immediately 
into the street again." Thus in every hall he rapped and 
scolded, driving the women to one side with his stick and 
the men to the other, till we were nearly through, when the 
fought of the coming fee made him a little more polite 
He had a regular set of descriptions by heart, which he 
went through with a great flourish, pointing particularly to 
the common military caps of the late emperors of Prussia 
and Austria as " treasures beyond all price to the nation " 



194 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Whereupon the crowd of common people gazed reverently 
on the shabby beavers, and, I verily believe, would have 
devoutly kissed them had the glass covering been removed. 
I happened to be next to a tall, dignified young man who 
looked on all this with a displeasure almost amounting to 
contempt. Seeing I was a foreigner, he spoke in a low tone 
bitterly of the Austrian government. " You are not, then, 
an Austrian ?" I asked. — " No, thank God !" was the reply ; 
" but I have seen enough of Austrian tyranny. I am a 
Pole." 

The first wing contains banners used in the French Rev- 
olution, and liberty-trees with the red cap, the armor of 
Rudolph of Hapsburg, Maximilian I., the emperor Charles 
v., and the hat, sword and order of Marshal Schwarzen- 
berg. Some of the halls represent a fortification, with w^alls, 
ditches and embankments, made of muskets and swords. 
A long room in the second wing contains an encampment 
in which twelve or fifteen large tents are formed in like 
manner. Along the sides are grouped old Austrian ban- 
ners, standards taken from the French and horsetails and 
flags captured from the Turks. " They make a great 
boast," said the Pole, " of a half dozen French colors ; but 
let them go to the Hospital des Invalides, in Paris, and they 
will find hundreds of the best banners of Austria." They 
also exhibited the armor of a dwarf king of Bohemia and 
Hungary who died a gray-headed old man in his twentieth 
year, the sword of Marlborough, the coat of Gustavus 
Adolphus, pierced in the breast and back with the bullet 
which killed him at Liitzen, the armor of the old Bohemian 
princess Libussa, and that of the amazon Wlaska, with a 
steel visor made to fit the features of her face. The last 
wing was the most remarkable. Here we saw the helm and 
breastplate of Attila, king of the Huns, which once glanced 
at the head of his myriads of wild hordes before the walls 
of Rome ; the armor of Count Stahremberg, who com- 
manded Vienna during the Turkish siege in 1529, and the 



BOYHOOD REVIVIFIED. 195 

holy banner of Mohammed, taken at that time from the 
grand vizier, together with the steel harness of John Sobi- 
eski of Poland, who rescued Vienna from the Turkish 
troops under Kara Mustapha ; the hat, sword and breast- 
plate of Godfrey of Bouillon, the crusader-king of Jerusa- 
lem, with the banners of the cross the crusaders had borne 
to Palestine and the standard they captured from the Turks 
on the walls of the Holy City. I felt all my boyish enthu- 
siasm for the romantic age of the crusaders revive as I 
looked on the torn and mouldering banners which once 
waved on the hills of Judea, or perhaps followed the sword 
of the Lion-Heart through the fight on the field of Ascalon. 
What tales could they not tell, those old standards cut and 
shivered by spear and lance ! What brave hands have 
carried them through the storm of battle, what dying eyes 
have looked upward to the cross on their folds as the last 
prayer was breathed for the rescue of the holy sepulchre. 

I must now close the catalogue. This morning we shall 
look upon Vienna for the last time. Our knapsacks are 
repacked, and the passports (precious documents !) vised for 
Munich. The getting of this vise, however, caused a com- 
ical scene at the police-office yesterday. We entered the 
inspector's hall and took our stand quietly among the crowd 
of persons who were gathered around a railing which sepa- 
rated them from the main office. One of the clerks came 
up, scowling at us, and asked in a rough tone, " What do 
you want here?" We handed him our tickets of sojourn 
(for when a traveller spends more than twenty-four hours 
in a German city, he must take out a permission and pay 
for it) with the request that he would give us our passports. 
He glanced over the tickets, came back and with constrained 
politeness asked us to step within the railing. Here we were 

introduced to the chief-inspector. " Desire Herr to 

come here," said he to a servant ; then, turning to us, " I 
am happy to see the gentlemen in Vienna." An officer im- 
mediately came up, who addressed us in fiaent English, 



196 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

" You may speak in your native tongue," said the inspector. 
" Excuse our neglect. From the facility with which you 
speak German, we supposed you were natives of Austria." 
Our passports were signed at once and given us with a gra- 
cious bow, accompanied by the hope that we would visit 
Vienna again before long. All this, of course, was perfectly 
unintelligible to the wondering crov/d outside the railing. 
Seeing, however, the honors we were receiving, they crowded 
back and respectfully made room for us to pass out. I kept 
a grave face till we reached the bottom of the stairs, when 
I gave way to restrained laughter in a manner that shocked 
the dignity of the guard, who looked savagely at me over 
his forest of moustache. I would, nevertheless, have felt 
grateful for the attention we received as Americans, were it 
not for our uncourteous reception as suspected Austrians. 

We have just been exercising the risible muscles again, 
though from a very different cause, and one which, accord- 
ing to common custom, ought to draw forth symptoms of a 
lachrymose nature. This morning B suggested an ex- 
amination of our funds, for we had neglected keeping a 
strict account, and, what with being cheated in Bohemia 
and tempted by the amusements of Vienna, there was an 
apparent dwindling away. So we emptied our pockets and 
purses, counted up the contents, and found we had just ten 
florins, or four dollars, apiece. The thought of our situa- 
tion, away in the heart of Austria, five hundred miles from 
our Frankfort home, seems irresistibly laughable. By al- 
lowing twenty days for the journey, we shall have half 
a florin a day to travel on. This is a homceopathic allow- 
ance, indeed, but we have concluded to try it. — So now 
adieu, Vienna ! In two hours we shall be among the hills 



THE VIENNA FOEEST. 197 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

UP THE DANUBE. 

We passed out of Vienna in tlie face of one of the strong- 
est winds it was ever my lot to encounter. It swept across 
the plain with such force that it was almost impossible to 
advance till we got under the lee of a range of hills. About 
two miles from the barrier we passed Schoenbrunn, the Aus- 
trian Versailles. It was built by the empress Maria The- 
resa, and was the residence of Napoleon in 1809, when 
Vienna was in the hands of the French. Later, in 1832, 
the duke of Reichstadt died in the same room which his 
father once occupied. Behind the palace is a magnificent 
garden, at the foot of a hill covered with rich forests and 
crowned with an open pillared hall three hundred feet long, 
called the Gloriette. The colossal eagle which surmounts it 
can be seen a great distance. 

The lovely valley in which Schoenbrunn lies follows the 
course of the little river Vienna into the heart of that moun- 
tain-region lying between the Styrian Alps and the Danube, 
and called the Vienna Forest. Into this our road led, be- 
tween hills covered with wood, with here and there a lovely 
green meadow where herds of cattle were grazing. The 
third day we came to the Danube again at Melk, a little 
city built under the edge of a steep hill, on whose summit 
stands the palace-like abbey of the Benedictine monks. 
The old friars must have had a merry life of it, for the 
wine-cellar of the abbey furnished the French army fifty 
thousand measures for several days in succession. The 
shores of the Danube here are extremely beautiful. The 
valley where it spreads out is filled with groves, but where 
the hills approach the stream its banks are rocky and pre- 
cipitous, like the Rhine. Although not so picturesque as 
the latter river, the scenery of the Danube is on a grander 



198 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

scale. On the south side the mountains bend down to it 
with a majestic sweep, and there must be delightful glances 
into the valleys that lie between in passing down the current. 

But we soon left the river and journeyed on through the 
enchanting inland vales. To give an idea of the glorious 
enjoyment of travelling through such scenes, let me copy a 
leaf out of my journal, written as we rested at noon on the 
top of a lofty hill : 

" Here, while the delightful mountain-breeze that comes 
fresh from the Alps cools my forehead and the pines around 
are sighing their eternal anthem, I seize a few moments to 
tell what a paradise is around me. I have felt an elevation 
of mind and spirit, a perfect rapture from morning till night, 
since we left Vienna. It is the brightest and balmiest June 
weather ; an ever-fresh breeze sings through the trees and 
waves the ripening grain on the verdant meadows and hill- 
slopes. The air is filled with bird-music. The larks sing 
above us out of sight, the bullfinch wakes his notes in the 
grove, and at eve the nightingale pours forth her thrilling 
strain. The meadows are literally covered with flowers; 
beautiful purple salvias, pinks such as we have at home in 
our gardens and glowing buttercups color the banks of every 
stream. I never saw richer or more luxuriant foliage. 
Magnificent forests clothe the hills, and the villages are im- 
bedded in fruit trees, shrubbery and flowers. Sometimes 
we go for miles through some enchanting valley lying like 
a paradise between the mountains, while the distant white 
Alps look on it from afar; sometimes over swelling ranges 
of hills, where we can see to the right the valley of the Dan- 
ube threaded by his silver current and dotted with white 
cottages and glittering spires, and, farther beyond, the blue 
mountains of the Bohemian Forest. To the left the range 
of the Styrian Alps stretches along the sky, summit above 
summit, the farther ones robed in perpetual snow. I could 
never tire gazing on those glorious hills. They fill the soul 
with a conception of sublimity such as one feels when lis- 



BOHEMIAN GIPSIES. 199 

tening to triumphal music. They seem like the marble 
domes of a mighty range of temples where Earth worships 
her Maker with an organ-anthem of storms. 

" There is a luxury in travelling here. We walk all day 
through such scenes, resting often in the shade of the fruit 
trees which line the road, or on a mossy bank by the side 
of some cool forest. Sometimes, for enjoyment as well as 
variety, we make our dining-place by a clear spring instead 
of within a smoky tavern, and our simple meals have a rel- 
ish an epicure could never attain. Away with your rail- 
roads and steamboats and mail-coaches, or keep them for 
those who have no eye but for the sordid interests of life ! 
With my knapsack and pilgrim-staif, I ask not their aid. 
If a mind and soul full of rapture with beauty, a frame in 
glowing and vigorous health and slumbers unbroken even 
by dreams are blessings any one would attain, let him pe- 
destrianize it through Lower Austria." 

I have never been so strongly and constantly reminded 
of America as during this journey. Perhaps the balmy 
season — ^the same in which I last looked upon the dear 
scenes of home — may have its effect, but there is, besides, 
a richness in the forests and waving fields of grain, a wild 
luxuriance over every landscape, which I have seen no- 
where else in Europe. The large farmhouses buried in 
orchards, scattered over the valleys, add to the effect. 
Everything seems to speak of happiness and prosperity. 

We were met one morning by a band of wandering 
Bohemian gipsies — the first of the kind I ever saw. A 
young woman with a small child in her arms came directly 
up to me, and, looking full in my face with her wild black 
eyes, said, without any preface, " Yes, he too has met with 
sorrow and trouble already, and will still have more. But 
he is not false ; he is true and sincere, and will also meet 
with good luck." She said she could tell me three numbers 
with which I should buy a lottery-ticket and win a great 
prize. I told her I would have nothing to do with the lot- 



200 VIEV7S A-FOOT. 

teiy and would buy no ticket, but she persisted, saying, 
" Has he a twenty-kreutzer piece ? Will he give it ? Laj' 
it in his hand and make a cross over it, and I will reveal 
the numbers." On my refusal she became angry, and left 
me, saying, " Let him take care ! The third day something 
will happen to him." An old wrinkled hag made the same 
proposition to my companion with no better success. They 
reminded me strikingly of our Indians ; their complexion 
is a dark brown and their eyes and hair are black as night. 
These belonged to a small tribe who wander through the 
forests of Bohemia and support themselves by cheating and 
stealing. 

We stopped the fourth night at Enns, a small city on the 
river of the same name which divides Upper from Lower 
Austria. After leaving the beautiful little village where 
we passed the night before, the road ascended one of those 
long ranges of hills which stretch off from the Danube 
toward the Alps. We walked for miles over the broad and 
uneven summit, enjoying the enchanting view which opened 
on both sides. If we looked to the right, we could trace 
the windings of the Danube for twenty miles, his current 
filled with green wooded islands ; white cities lie at the foot 
of the hills, which, covered to the summit with grain-fields 
and vineyards, extended back one behind another, till the 
farthest were lost in the distance. I was glad we had 
taken the way from Vienna to Linz by land, for from the 
heights we had a view of the whole course of the Danube, 
enjoying, besides, the beauty of the inland vales and the 
far-off Styrian Alps. From the hills we passed over we 
could see the snowy range as far as the Alps of Salzburg ; 
some of them seemed robed to the very base in their white 
mantles. In the morning the glaciers on their summit glit- 
tered like stars. It was the first time I saw the sun re- 
flected at a hundred miles' distance. 

On descending, we came into a garden-like plain over 
which rose the towers of Enns, built by the ransom-money 



EOADSIDE SHEINES. 201 

paid to Austria for the deliverance of the Lion-hearted 
Richard. The country legends say that St. Florian was 
thrown into the river by the Romans in the third century 
with a millstone around his neck, which, however, held him 
above the water like cork until he had finished preaching 
them a sermon. In the villages we often saw his image 
painted on the houses in the act of pouring a pail of water 
on a burning building, with the inscription beheath : " O 
holy Florian, pray for us!" This was supposed to be a 
charm against fire. In Upper Austria it is customary to 
erect a shrine on the road wherever an accident has hap- 
pened, with a painting and description of it, and an ad- 
monition to all passers-by to pray for the soul of the unfor- 
tunate person. On one of them, for instance, was a cart 
with a wdld ox which a man was holding by the horns ; a 
woman kneeling by the wheels appeared to be drawing 
a little girl by the feet from under it, and the inscription 
stated : " By calling on Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the girl 
was happily rescued." Many of the shrines had images 
which the people, no doubt, in their ignorance and sim- 
plicity, considered holy, but they were to us impious, and 
almost blasphemous. 

From Enns a morning's walk brought us to Linz. The 
peasant-girls in their broad straw hats were weeding the 
young wheat, looking as cheerful and contented as the larks 
that sung above them. A mile or two from Linz we passed 
one or two of the round towers belonging to the new fortifi- 
cations of the city. As walls have grown out of fashion, 
Duke Maximilian substituted an invention of his own. The 
city is surrounded by thirty-two towers, one to three miles 
distant from it, and so placed that they form a complete 
line of communication and defence. They are sunk in 
the earth, surrounded with a ditch and embankments, and 
each is capable of containing ten cannon and three hundred 
men. The pointed roofs of these towers are seen on all the 
hills around. We were obliged to give up our passports at 



202 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the barrier, the officer telling us to call for them in three 
hours at the city police-office. We spent the intervening time 
very agreeably in rambling through this gay, cheerful-look- 
ing town. With its gilded spires and ornamented houses, 
with their green lattice-blinds, it reminds one strongly of 
Italy — or, at least, of what Italy is said to be. It has now 
quite an active and business-like aspect, occasioned by the 
steamboat and railroad lines which connect it with Vienna, 
Prague, Ratisbon and Salzburg. Although we had not ex- 
ceeded our daily allowance by more than a few kreutzers, 
we found that twenty days would be hardly sufficient to 
accomplish the journey, and our funds must therefore be 
replenished. Accordingly, I wrote from Linz to Frankfort, 
directing a small sum to be forwarded to Munich ; which 
city we hoped to reach in eight days. 

We took the horse-cars at Linz for Lambach, seventeen 
miles on the way toward Gmunden. The mountains were 
covered with clouds as we approached them, and the storms 
they had been brewing for two or three days began to march 
down on the plain. They had nearly reached us when we 
crossed the Traun and arrived at Lambach, a small city 
built upon a hill. We left the next day at noon, and on 
ascending the hill after crossing the Traun had an opportu- 
nity of seeing the portrait on the Traunstein of which the 
old landlord told us. I saw it at the first glance ; certainly 
it is a most remarkable freak of nature. The rough back 
of the mountain forms the exact profile of the human coun- 
tenance, as if regularly hewn out of the rock. What is still 
more singular, it is said to be a correct portrait of the un- 
fortunate Louis XVI. The landlord said it was immedi- 
ately recognized by all Frenchmen. The road followed the 
course of the Traun, whose green waters roared at the bot- 
tom of the glen below us; we walked for several miles 
through a fine forest through whose openings we caught 
glimpses of the mountains we longed to reach. 

The river roared at last somewhat louder, and on looking 



THE UNKNOWN STUDENT. 203 

down the bank I saw rocks and rapids, and a few houses 
built on the edge of the stream. Thinking it must be near 
the fall, we went down the path, and, lo ! on crossing a little 
wooden bridge, the whole affair burst in sight. Judge of 
our surprise at finding a fall of fifteen feet, after we had 
been led to expect a tremendous leap of forty or fifty with 
all the accompaniment of rocks and precipices. Of course 
the whole descent of the river at the place was much greater, 
and there were some romantic cascades over the rocks which 
blocked its course. Its greatest beauty consisted in the color 
of the water — the brilliant green of the waves being broken 
into foam of the most dazzling white — and the great force 
with which it is thrown below. 

The Traunstein grew higher as we approached, presenting 
the same profile till we had nearly reached Gmunden. 
From the green upland meadows above the town the view 
of the mountain-range was glorious, and I could easily con- 
ceive the effect of the Unknown Student's appeal to the 
people to fight for those free hills. I think it is Howitt who 
relates the incident — one of the most romantic in German 
history. Count Pappenheim led his forces here in the year 
1626 to suppress a revolution of the people of the whole 
Salzburg region, who had risen against an invasion of their 
rights by the Austrian government. The battle which took 
place on these meadows was about being decided in favor 
of the oppressors, when a young man clad as a student sud- 
denly appeared and addressed the people, pointing to the 
Alps above them and the sweet lake below, and asking if 
that land should not be free. The effect was electrical. 
They returned to the charge and drove back the troops of 
Pappenheim, who were about taking to flight, when the un- 
known leader fell mortally wounded. This struck a sudden 
panic through his followers, and the Austrians, turning 
again, gained a complete victory. But the name of the 
brave student is unknown, his deed unsung by his country's 
bards and almost forgotten. 



204 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE UNKNOWN STUDENT. 

Ha ! spears on Graunden's meadows green, 

And banners on the wood-crowned height I 
Rank after rank, their helmets' sheen 

Sends back the morning light. 
Where late the mountain-maiden sang / 

The battle-trumpet's brazen clang 

Vibrates along the air, 
And wild dragoons wheel o'er the plain, 
Trampling to earth the yellow grain. 
From which no more the merry swain 

His harvest-sheaves shall bear. ^ 



The eagle, in his sweep at mom 

To meet the monarch-sun on high, 
Heard the unwonted warrior's horn 

Peal faintly up the sky ; 
He saw the foemen moving slow 
In serried legions far below 

Against that peasant-band 
Who dared to break the tyrant's thrall 
And by the sword of Austria fall. 
Or keep the ancient right of all. 

Held by their mountain-land. 

They came to meet that mail-clad host 

From glen and wood and ripening field ; 
A brave, stout arm each man could boast — 

A soul unused to yield. 
They met! A shout prolonged and loud 
Went hovering upward with the cloud 

That closed around them dun ; 
Blade upon blade unceasing clashed, 
Spears in the onset shivering crashed, 
And the red glare of cannon flashed 

Athwart the smoky sun. 



THE UNKNOWN STUDENT. 205 

The mountain-warriors wavered back, 

Borne down by myriads of the foe 
Like pines before the torrent's track 

When spring has warmed the snow. 
Shall Faith and Freedom vainly call, 
And Gmunden's warrior-herdsmen fall 

On the red field in vain ? 
No ! From the throng that back retired 
A student-boy sprang forth inspired, 
And while his words their bosoms fired 

Led on the charge again : 

" And thus your free arms would ye give 

So tamely to a tyrant's band. 
And with the hearts of vassals live 

In this your chainless land ? 
The emerald lake is spread below, 
Arid tower above the hills of snow ; 

Here field and forest lie ; 
This land so glorious and so free — 
Say, shall it crushed and trodden be? 
Say, would ye rather bend the knee 

Than for its freedom die ? 

" Look ! Yonder stand in midday's glare 

The everlasting Alps of snow, 
And from their peaks a purer air 

Breathes over the vales below ; 
The Traunstein's brow is bent in pride; 
He brooks no craven on his side : 

Would ye be fettered, then ? 
There lifts the Sonnenstein his head, 
There chafes the Traun his rocky bed, 
And Aurach's lovely vale is spread : 

Look on them, and be men ! 

** Let, like a trumpet's sound of fire, 

These stir your souls to manhood's part — 

The glory of the Alps inspire 
Each yet unconquered heart ; 

For through their unpolluted air 

Soars fresher up the grateful prayer 
From freemen, unto God. 



206 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

A blessing on those mountains old ! 
On to the combat, brethren bold ! 
Strike, that ye free the valleys hold 
"Where free your fathers trod !" 

And, like a mighty storm that tears 

The icy avalanche from its bed, 
They rushed against th' opposing spears, 

The student at their head. 
The bands of Austria fought in vain : 
A bloodier harvest heaped the plain 

At every charge they made ; 
Each herdsman was a hero then ; 
The mountain-hunters stood like men, 
And echoed from the farthest glen 

The clash of blade on blade. 

The banner in the student's hand 

W^aved triumph from the fight before ; 
What terror seized the conq'ring band? 

It fell to rise no more ! 
And with it died the lofty flame 
That from his lips in lightning came 

And burned upon their own. 
Dread Pappenheim led back the foe, 
The mountain-peasants yielded slow, 
And plain above and lake below 

Were red when evening shone. 

Now many a year has passed away 

Since battle's blast rolled o'er the plain ; 
The Alps are bright in morning's ray, 

The Traunstein smiles again. 
But underneath the flowery sod 
By happy peasant-children trod 

A hero's ashes lay. 
O'er him no grateful nation wept, 
Fame of his deed no record kept, 
And dull Forgetfulness hath swept 

His very name away. 

In many a grave by poets sung 
There falls to dust a lofty brow, 



EBENSEE. 207 



But he alone, the brave and young, 

Sleeps there forgotten now. 
The Alps upon that field look down 
Which won his bright and brief renown 

Beside the lake's green shore ; 
Still wears the land a tyrant's chain, 
Still bondmen tread the battle-plain, 
Called by his glorious soul in vain 

To win their rights of yore. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE AUSTRIAN ALPS. 



It was nearly dark when we came to the end of the 
plain and looked on the city at our feet and the lovely lake 
that lost itself in the mountains before us. We were early 
on board the steamboat next morning, with a cloudless sky 
above us and a snow-crested alp beckoning on from the end 
of the lake. The water was of the most beautiful green 
hue, the morning light colored the peaks around with pur- 
ple and a misty veil rolled up the rocks of the Traunstein. 
We stood on the prow and enjoyed to the fullest extent the 
eu chanting scenery. The white houses of Gmunden sank 
down to the water's edge like a flock of ducks ; halfway 
we passed Castle Ort, on a rock in the lake whose sum- 
mit is covered with trees. 

As we neared the other extremity the mountains became 
steeper and loftier; there was no path along their wild 
sides, nor even a fisher's hut nestled at their feet, and the 
snow filled the ravines more than halfway from the summit. 
An hour and a quarter brought us to Ebensee, at the head 
of the lake, where we landed and plodded on toward Ischl, 
following the Traun up a narrow valley whose mountain- 
walls shut out more than half the sky. They are covered 



208 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

with forests, and tlie country is inhabited entirely by the 
woodmen who fell the mountain-pines and float the timber- 
rafts down to the Danube. The steeps are marked with 
white lines where the trees have been rolled — or, rather, 
thrown — from the summit. Often they descend several 
miles over rocks and precipices where the least deviation 
from the track would dash them in a thousand pieces. This 
generally takes place in the winter when the sides are cov- 
ered with snow and ice. It must be a dangerous business, 
for there are many crosses by the wayside where the pic- 
tures represent persons accidentally killed by the trees ; an 
additional painting represents them as burning in the flames 
of purgatory, and the pious traveller is requested to pray 
an Ave or a Paternoster for the repose of their souls. 

On we went up the valley of the Traun, between moun- 
tains five and six thousand feet high, through scenes con- 
stantly changing and constantly grand, for three or four 
hours. Finally the hills opened, disclosing a little triangu- 
lar valley whose base was formed by a mighty mountain 
covered with clouds. Through the two side-angles came 
the Traun and his tributary the Ischl, while the little town 
of Ischl lay in the centre. Within a few years this has be- 
come a very fashionable bathing-place, and the influx of 
rich visitors — which in the summer sometimes amounts to 
two thousand — has entirely destroyed the primitive sim- 
plicity the inhabitants originally possessed. From Ischl 
we took a road through the forests to St. Wolfgang, on the 
lake of the same name. The last part of the way led 
along the banks of the lake, disclosing some delicious 
views. These Alpine lakes surpass any scenery I have yet 
seen. The water is of the most beautiful green, like a 
sheet of molten beryl, and the cloud-piercing mountains 
that encompass them shut out the sun for nearly half the 
day. St. Wolfgang is a lovely village in a cool and quiet 
nook at the foot of the Schaf berg. The houses are built in 
the picturesque Swiss style, with flat, projecting roofs and 



THE SCHAFBERG. 209 

ornamental balconies, and the people are the very picture 
of neatness and cheerfulness. 

We started next morning to ascend the Schaf berg, which 
is called the Righi of the Austrian Switzerland. It is 
somewhat higher than its Swiss namesake, and commands 
a prospect scarcely less extensive or grand. We folloAved 
a footpath through the thick forest by the side of a roaring 
torrent. The morning mist still covered the lake, but the 
white summits of the Salzburg and Noric Alps, opposite 
us, rose above it and stood pure and bright in the upper 
air. We passed a little mill and one or two cottages, and 
then wound round one of the lesser heights into a deep 
ravine, down in whose dark shadow we sometimes heard 
the axe and saw of the mountain-woodmen. Finally the 
path disappeared altogether under a mass of logs and rocks, 
which appeared to have been whirled together by a sudden 
flood. We deliberated what to do. The summit rose sev- 
eral thousand feet above us, almost precipitously steep, but 
we did not like to turn back, and there was still a hope of 
meeting with the path again. Clambering over the ruins 
and rubbish, we jDulled ourselves by the limbs of trees up a 
steep ascent and descended again to the stream. We here 
saw the ravine was closed by a wall of rock and our only 
chance was to cross to the west side of the mountain, where 
the ascent seemed somewhat easier. A couple of mountain- 
maidens whom we fortunately met carrying home grass for 
their goats told us the mountain could be ascended on that 
side by one who could climb well, laying a strong emphasis 
on the word. The very doubt implied in this expression 
was enough to decide us ; so we began- the work. And 
w^ork it was, too. The side was very steep, the trees all 
leaned downward, and we slipped at every step on the dry 
leaves and grass. After making a short distance this way 
with the greatest labor we came to the track of an ava- 
lanche which had swept away the trees and earth. Here 
the rock had been worn rough by torrents, but by using 

14 



210 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

both hands and feet we clomb directly up the side of the 
mountain, sometimes dragging ourselves up by the branches 
of trees where the rocks were smooth. After half an hour 
of such work we came above the forests, on the bare side 
of the mountain. The summit was far above us, and so 
steep that our limbs involuntarily shrunk from the task of 
climbing. The side ran up at an angle of nearly sixty 
degrees, and the least slip threw us flat on our faces. We 
had to use both hand and foot, and were obliged to rest 
every few minutes to recover breath. Crimson-flowered 
moss and bright blue gentians covered the rocks, and I 
filled my books with blossoms for friends at home. 

Up and up for what seemed an age we clambered. So 
steep was it that the least rocky projection hid my friend 
from sight, as he was coming up below me. I let stones 
roll sometimes, which went down, down, almost like a 
cannon-ball, till I could see them no more. At length we 
reached the region of dwarf pines, which was even more 
difiicult to pass through. Although the mountain was not 
so steep, this forest, centuries old, reached no higher than 
our breasts, and the trees leaned downward ; so that we 
were obliged to take hold of the tops of those above us and 
drag ourselves up through the others. Here and there lay 
large patches of snow ; we sat down in the glowing June 
sun, and bathed our hands and faces in it. Finally the sky 
became bluer and broader, the clouds seemed nearer, and a 
few more steps through the bushes brought us to the sum- 
mit of the mountain, on the edge of a precipice a thousand 
feet deep whose bottom stood in a vast field of snow. 

We lay down on the heather, exhausted by five hours' 
incessant toil, and drank in like a refreshing draught the 
sublimity of the scene. The green lakes of the Salzburg 
Alps lay far below us, and the whole southern horizon was 
filled with the mighty range of the Styrian and Noric Alps, 
their summits of never-melting snow mingling and blend- 
ing with the clouds. On the other side the mountains of 



A FATIGUING DESCENT. 211 

Salzburg lifted their ridgy backs from the plains of Bavaria, 
and the Chiem lake lay spread out in the blue distance. A 
line of mist far to the north betrayed the path of the Dan- 
ube, and beyond it we could barely trace the outline of the 
Bohemian mountains. With a glass the spires of Mumch, 
one hundred and twenty miles distant, can be seen. It was 
a view whose grandeur I can never forget. In that dome 
of the cloud we seemed to breathe a purer air than that of 
earth. 

After an hour or two we began to think of descending, 
as the path was yet to be found. The summit, which was 
a mile or more in length, extended farther westward, and 
by climbing over the dwarf pines for some time we saw a 
little wooden house above us. It stood near the highest 
part of the peak, and two or three men were engaged in re- 
pairing it as a shelter for travellers. They pointed out the 
path which went down on the side toward St. Gilgen, and 
we began descending. The mountain on this side is much 
less steep, but the descent is fatiguing enough. The path 
led along the side of a glen where mountain-goats were 
grazing, and farther down we saw cattle feeding on the lit- 
tle spots of verdure which lay in the forest. My knees be- 
came so weak from this continued descent that they would 
scarcely support me, but we were three hours, partly walk- 
ing and partly running down, before we reached the bottom. 
Half an hour's walk around the head of the St. Wolfgang 
See brought us to the little village of St. Gilgen. 

The valley of St. Gilgen lies like a little paradise between 
the mountains. Lovely green fields and woods slope grad- 
ually from the mountain behind to the still greener lake 
spread out before it in whose bosom the white Alps are 
mirrored. Its picturesque cottages cluster around the neat 
church with its lofty spire, and the simple inhabitants have 
countenances as bright and cheerful as the blue sky above 
them. We breathed an air of poetry. The Arcadian sim- 
plicity of the people, the pastoral beauty of the fields 



212 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

around and the grandeur of the mountains which shut it 
out from the world realized my ideas of a dwelling-place 
where, with a few kindred spirits, the bliss of Eden might 
almost be restored. 

We stopped there two or three hours to relieve our hun- 
ger and fatigue. My boots had suffered severely in our 
mountain-adventure, and I called at a shoemaker's cottage 
to get them repaired. I sat down and talked for half an 
hour with the family. The man and his wife spoke of the 
delightful scenery around them, and expressed themselves 
with correctness, and even elegance. They were much 
pleased that I admired their village so greatly, and related 
everything which they supposed could interest me. As I 
rose to go my head nearly touched the ceiling, which was 
very low. The man exclaimed : "Ach, Gott ! how tail !" 
I told him the people were all tall in our country ; he then 
asked where I came from, and I had no sooner said "Amer- 
ica " than he threw up his hands and uttered an ejacula- 
tion of the greatest surprise. His wife observed that " it 
was wonderful how far man was permitted to travel." They 
wished me a prosperous journey and a safe return home. 

St. Gilgen was also interesting to me from that beautiful 
chapter in Hyperion — " Footsteps of Angels ;" and on pass- 
ing the church on my way back to the inn I entered the 
graveyard mentioned in it. The green turf grows thickly 
over the rows of mounds, with here and there a rose planted 
by the hand of affection, and the white crosses were hung 
with wreaths, some of which had been freshly laid on. Be- 
hind the church, under the shade of a tree, stood a small 
chapel. I opened the unfastened door and entered. The 
afternoon sun shone through the side window, and all was 
still around. A little shrine adorned with flowers stood at 
the other end, and there were two tablets on the wall to 
persons who slumbered beneath. I approached these and 
read on one of them with feelings not easily described, 
" Look not mournfully into the past — it comes not again ; 



SALZBURG VALLEY. 213 

wisely improve the present — it is thine ; and go forward to 
meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly 
heart." This, then, was the spot where Paul Flemming 
came in loneliness and sorrow to muse over what he had 
lost, and these were the words whose truth and eloquence 
strengthened and consoled him, " as if the unknown tenant 
of the grave had opened his lips of dust and spoken those 
words of consolation his soul needed." I sat down and 
mused a long time, for there was something in the silent 
holiness of the spot that impressed me more than I could 
well describe. 

We reached a little village on the Fuschel See the same 
evening, and set off the next morning for Salzburg. The 
day was hot, and we walked slowly ; so that it was not till 
two o'clock that we saw the castellated rocks on the side 
of the Gaissberg guarding the entrance to the valley of 
Salzburg. A short distance farther the whole glorious pan- 
orama was spread out below us. From the height on which 
we stood we looked directly on the summit of the Capuchin 
Mountain, which hid part of the city from sight ; the double 
peak of the Staufen rose opposite, and a heavy storm was 
raging along the Alpine heights around it, while the lovely 
valley lay in sunshine below, threaded by the bright cur- 
rent of the Salza. As we descended and passed around the 
foot of the hill the Untersberg came in sight, whose broad 
summits lift themselves seven thousand feet above the plain. 
The legend says that Charlemagne and his warriors sit in 
its subterraneous caverns in complete armor, and that they 
will arise and come forth again when Germany recovers her 
former power and glory. 

I wish I could convey in words some idea of the eleva- 
tion of spirit experienced while looking on these eternal 
mountains. They fill the soul with a sensation of power 
and grandeur which frees it a while from the cramps and 
fetters of common life. It rises and expands to the level 
of their sublimity till its thoughts stand solemnly aloft, like 



214 VIEWS A-FQOT. 

Iheir summits piercing the free heaven. Their dazzling and 
imperishable beauty is to the mind an image of its own en- 
during existence. When I stand upon some snowy summit 
the invisible apex of that mighty pyramid, there seems a 
majesty in my weak will which might defy the elements. 
This sense of power, inspired by a silent sympathy with the 
forms of nature, is beautifully described — as shown in the 
free, unconscious instincts of childhood — ^by the poet 
Uhland in his ballad of "The Mountain-Boy." I have 
attempt^^i a translation: 

THE MOUNTAIN-BOY. 

A herd-boy on the mountain's brow, 
I see the castles all below. 
The sunbeam here is earliest cast 
And by my side it lingers last : 

I am the boy of the mountain ! 

The mother-house of streams is here : 
I drink them in their cradles clear ; 
From out the rock they foam below : 
I spring to catch them as they go. 
I am the boy of the mountain ! 

To me belongs the mountain's bound, 
Where gathering tempests march around ; 
But, though from north and south they shout^ 
Above them still my song rings out : 
"I am the boy of the mountain !" 

Below me clouds and thunders move ; 
I stand amid the blue above ; 
I shout to them with fearless breast : 
** Go ! leave my father's house in rest ! 
I am the boy of the mountain !" 

And when the loud bell shakes the spires 
And flame aloft the signal-fires, 
I go below and join the throng 
And swing my sword and sing my song : 
" I am the boy of the mountain !" 



THE PINCH OF POVERTY. 215 

Salzburg lies on both sides of the Salza, hemmed in on 
either hand by precipitous mountains. A large fortress 
overlooks it on the south from the summit of a perpendic- 
ular rock against which the houses in that part of the city 
are built. The streets are narrow and crooked, but the 
newer part contains many open squares adorned with hand- 
some fountains. The variety of costume among the people 
is very interesting. The inhabitants of the salt district have 
a peculiar dress. The women wear round fur caps with 
little wings of gauze at the side. I saw other women with 
headdresses of gold or silver filigree, something in shape 
like a Roman helmet, with a projection at the back of the 
head a foot long. The most interesting objects in Salzburg 
to us were the house of Mozart, in which the composer was 
born, and the monument lately erected to him. The St. 
Peter's church, near by, contains the tomb of Haydn, the 
great composer, and the church of St. Sebastian that of the 
renowned Paracelsus, who was also a native of Salzburg. 

Two or three hours sufiiced to see everything of interest 
in the city. We had intended to go farther through the 
Alps, to the beautiful vales of the Tyrol, but our time was 
getting short; our boots, which are the pedestrian's sole 
dependence, began to show symptoms of wearing out, and 
our expenses among the lakes and mountains of Upper 
Austria left us but two florins apiece; so we reluctantly 
turned our backs upon the snowy hills and set out for Mu- 
nich, ninety miles distant. After passing the night at Saal- 
bruck, on the banks of the stream which separates the two 
kingdoms, we entered Bavaria next morning. I could not 
help feeling glad to leave Austria, although within her 
bounds I had passed scenes whose beauty will long haunt 
me, and met with many honest, friendly hearts among her 
people. We noticed a change as soon as we had crossed the 
border. The roads were neater and handsomer, and the 
country-people greeted us in going by with a friendly cheer- 
fulness that made us feel half at home. The houses are 



216 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

built in the picturesque Swiss fashion, their balconies often 
ornamented with curious figures carved in wood. Many of 
them, where they are situated remote from a church, have 
a little bell on the roof, which they ring for morning and 
evening prayers ; we often heard these simple monitors 
sounding from the cottages as we passed by. 

The next night we stopped at the little village of Stein, 
famous in former times for its robber-knight Hans von Stein. 
The ruins of his castle stand on the rock above, and the cav- 
erns hewn in the sides of the precipice, where he used to 
confine his prisoners, are still visible. Walking on through 
a pleasant, well-cultivated country, we came to Wasserburg, 
on the Inn. The situation of the city is peculiar. The Inn 
has gradually worn his channel deeper in the sandy soil ; 
so that he now flows at the bottom of a glen, a hundred feet 
below the plains around. Wasserburg lies in a basin formed 
by the change of the current, which flows around it like a 
horseshoe, leaving only a narrow neck of land which con- 
nects it with the country above. 

We left the little village where we were quartered for the 
night, and took a footpath which led across the country to 
the field of Hohenlinden, about six miles distant. The 
name had been familiar to me from childhood, and my love 
for Campbell, with the recollection of the school-exhibitions 
where " On Linden when the sun was low " had been so often 
declaimed, induced me to make the excursion to it. We 
traversed a large forest belonging to the king of Bavaria, 
and came out on a plain covered with grain-fields and 
bounded on the right by a semicircle of low hills. Over the 
fields, about two miles distant, a tall, minaret-like spire rose 
from a small cluster of houses, and this was Hohenlinden. 
To tell the truth, I had been expecting something more. 
The " hills of blood-stained snow " are very small hills in- 
deed, and the " Isar, rolling rapidly," is several miles off"; 
it was the spot, however, and we recited Campbell's poem, 
of course, and brought away a few wild-flowers as memorials. 



A FRIEND m NEED. 217 

There is no monument or any other token of the battle, and 
the people seem to endeavor to forget the scene of Moreau's 
victory and their defeat. 

From a hill twelve miles off we had our first view of the 
spires of Munich, looking like distant ships over the sealike 
plain. They kept in sight till we arrived at eight o'clock 
in the evening, after a walk of more than thirty miles. We 
crossed the rapid Isar on three bridges, entered the magnifi- 
cent Isar Gate, and were soon comfortably quartered in the 
heart of Munich. 

Entering the city without knowing a single soul within 
it, we made within a few minutes an agreeable acquaintance. 
After we passed the Isar Gate, we began looking for a de- 
cent inn, for the day's walk was very fatiguing. Presently 
a young man who had been watching us for some time came 
up and said if we would allow him he would conduct us to 
a good lodging-place. Finding we were strangers, he ex- 
pressed the greatest regret that he had not time to go with 
us every day around the city. Our surprise and delight at 
the splendor of Munich, he said, would more than repay him 
for the trouble. In his anxiety to show us something he 
took us some distance out of the way (although it was grow- 
ing dark and we were very tired) to see the palace and the 
theatre, with its front of rich frescos. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

MUNICH. 



June 14. 
I THOUGHT I had seen everything in Vienna that could 
excite admiration or gratify fancy ; here I have my former 
sensation to live over again in an augmented degree. It is 
well I was at first somewhat prepared by our previous travel ; 
otherwise, the glare and splendor of wealth and art in this 



218 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Curmnn AMhmi« mi|j;ht blind nio to ilio boantion of thecitica 
wo mIuiII yd vinit. I liavo boon walking in a drcani whom 
tlio fniry-lnK^H of boyiiood wore roalizod and the jjjoldon and 
jt^wollcd hnllH of lli(> lOnHli^rn gcrnii roHi^ glilliM'in^ ar(>un<l 
nu\ **n vinioii ol' l\\o brain no inonv" All 1 had conceived 
of OriiMital nia|^niruHMic(\ all descriplionH of the nplon- 
ilor of kingly halln and pnbuH^B, fall far hIioiI, of what I 
hero SCO. Wluvro nhall I begin to dcHcrilx^ (lu^ crowd of 
HpK^ndid edifi(M\s i\\nl lin(> its slriu'ts, or liow give an idea of 
i\\o profn.Mion of i)ninl ings and Hinlne.M, of marble, jaHj)er and 
gt>ld ? 

Art lu\H dono cviM-yMiing for Mnnioli. It lies on a large, 
flat plain slxlctii hundred fei^t above the Hoa and continu- 
ally exposed to tlu^ cold winds IVoni the Alps. At the be- 
ginning of the pre.MtMjt cenlury it was but a third-rate city, 
and was nm^ly visited by foreigners; since that time it» 
population and limits have been doubled and niagninccnt 
odilici^s in t>very styh^ of architectun^ erect(Hl, nMulering it 
scarcely secondjiry in this rcspiH-t lo nny <*apital in Kuropo. 
ICvery art that wi^nlth or taste c(»uld th^vise seems to have 
betMi spiMit in \i^ decoration. Hroad, spacious strti ts and 
W(iuan\s have been laid out, churches, halls and colleges 
orectt^d, and schools of ]>ninting and si'ulpture established 
which ilraw artists from all parts of the world. All this 
was i)rincipally brought about by the taste of the prci'ent 
king, Ludwig I., who began twenty or thirty yeai-s ago, 
when he was crown-prince, to collect the best German 
artist.** around him and form plans for the execution of his 
grand design. He can boast of having done more for the 
art.s than any other living monarch ; and if he had acconi- 
pli8hod it all without oppressing bis people, ho would de- 
Bcrve an immortality of fame. 

l^ow. if you have uiithing t>lse to do, let us take a stroll 
down the Ludwigstrasse. As we pass the Theatiner church 
with iti< dome and towers the broad street oj^cus bciore us, 
stretching away to the north between rows of nuigniliceut 



LUDWIG'S KIKCIIK. 219 

huildlngfl. Jij«t at thiw ftouthorn end Ik thf; Snhlu«fthallc, an 
opon temple of wJiite inarble terrniriatinjr tlie avenue. 'J'o 
the right of uh extend the areadeH, witJj tfje trefjH of t}ie 
royal garden peeping above therri ; on tlie left ih the Bpaciouii 
(K^nwirt-huilding of the Odeon and the palacx; of the duko 
of Leuehtenherg, Hon of JOugene lieauharnaiH. PfiBHing 
through a row of f)alaee-]ike private huildingH, we come to 
the arnjy dfjpartnient, on tlie riglit. — a neat and tanteJul 
building of white nandHtone. Jienide it etandn the library, 
whieh pOHHeHfiCB the firnt Hi>eeial claim on our admiration. 
Witli itK Rplendid front of fiv<; hundred and eighU;en feet, 
the yeilowiHh-brown cement witli wliieh the body in covered 
making an agreeable fjontra«t with the dark-red window- 
archer and corni(;fiH, and tlie HtatucH of J lomer, II ippocrate«, 
ThucydidcH and Arintotle guarding the poH.al, ih it not a 
wortljy receptacle for tlie trea^.ureH of ancierit and modern 
lore wliieh itH hallH fx>ntain ? 

Nearly oppowiU^ Htandw the inntitutcj for the blind, a plain 
but large building of dark-red brick cxjvered with clement, 
and, fart>her, the Ludwig'n kirf;he, or church of St. Louiw. 
How lightly the two H/pjare towern of gray marble lift their 
network of Hculpture! And what a novel and beautiful 
effect i8 produced by uniting the Byzantine Ktyle of archi- 
tficture to the form of the Latin cronal Over the arche^i 
port>al Htand marble Htatuf^ by Schwanthaler, and the roof 
of brilliant tilcB workc^fl into mw.aic lookK like a rich Tur- 
key carpfit covering the whole. We rnuKt entf^r to get an 
idea of the Bplendor of this church. InnU'/djd of the pointf;d 
arch which one would expect to Bef^me/^ting above bin head, 
the lofty pillars on each nide bear an unbroken semicircular 
vault which is painted a brilliant blue and Hpanglf^r] with 
silver stars. These pillars, and the little arches above, which 
spring from them, are paintfjd in an arabesfjue ntyle with 
gold and brilliant rx^lors, and ea^jh side-chapel is a fKjrfect 
casket of richncF-s and eleganw. The windows are of sil- 
vered glass, through which the light glimmers softly on tho 



220 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

splendor within. The whole end of the church behind th«> 
high altar is taken up with Cornelius's celebrated fresco- 
painting of the " Last Judgment " — the largest painting in 
the world — and the circular dome in the centre of the cross 
contains groups of martyrs, prophets, saints and kings painted 
in fresco on a ground of gold. The work of Cornelius has 
been greatly praised for sublimity of design and beauty of 
execution by many acknowledged judges; I was disap- 
pointed in it, but the fault lay, most probably, in me, and 
not in the painting. The richness and elegance of the 
church took me all " aback ;" it was so entirely different 
from anything I had seen that it was difficult to decide 
whether I was most charmed by its novelty or its beauty. 
Still, as a building designed to excite feelings of worship, it 
seems to me inappropriate. A vast, dim cathedral would be 
far preferable ; the devout, humble heart cannot feel at home 
amid such glare and brightness. 

As we leave the church and walk farther on, the street 
expands suddenly into a broad square. One side is formed 
by the new university building and the other by the royal 
seminary, both displaying in their architecture new forms 
of the graceful Byzantine school which the architects of 
Munich have adapted in a striking manner to so many 
varied purposes. On each side stands a splendid colossal 
fountain of bronze, throwing up a great mass of water, 
which falls in a triple cataract to the marble basin below. 
A short distance beyond this square the Ludwigstrasse ter- 
minates. It is said the end will be closed by a magnificent 
gate in a style to correspond with the unequalled avenue to 
which it will give entrance. To one standing at the south- 
ern end it would form a proper termination to the grand 
vista. Before we leave turn around and glance back, down 
this street, which extends for half a mile between such 
buildings as we have just viewed, and tell me if it is not 
something of which a city and a king may boast to have 
created all this within less than twenty years. 



NOBLE STATUAEY. 221 

We went one morning to see the collection of paintings 
formerly belonging to Eugene Beauharnais, who was broth- 
er-in-law to the present king of Bavaria, in the palace of 
his son, the duke of Leuchtenberg. The first hall contains 
works principally by French artists, among which are two 
by Gerard — a beautiful portrait of Josephine, and the blind 
Belisarius carrying his dead companion. The boy's head 
lies on the old man's shoulder ; but for the livid paleness 
of his limbs, he would seem to be only asleep, while a deep 
and settled sorrow marks the venel^ ble features of the un- 
fortunate emperor. In the middle of the room are six 
pieces of statuary, among which Canova's world-renowned 
group of the Graces at once attracts the eye. There is also 
a kneeling Magdalen, lovely in her woe, by th*^ same scuIid- 
tor, and a very touching w^ork of Schadr xep resenting a 
shepherd-boy tenderly binding his sash around . a lamb 
w'lich he has accidentally wounded with his arrow. 

We have since seen in the St. Michael's church the mon- 
ument to Eugene Beauharnais from the chisel of Thorwald- 
sen. The noble, manly figure of the son of Josephine is 
represented in the Roman mantle, with his helmet and sword 
lying on the ground by him. On one side sits History 
writing on a tablet ; on the other stand the two brother-an- 
gels Death and Immortality. They lean lovingly together, 
with arms around each other, but the sweet countenance of 
Death has a cast of sorrow as he stands with inverted torch 
and a wreath of poppies among his clustering locks. Im- 
mortality, crowned with never-fading flowers, looks upward 
with a smile of triumph, and holds in one hand his blazing 
torch. It is a beautiful idea, and Thorwaldsen has made 
the marble eloquent with feeling. 

The inside of the square formed by the arcades and the 
New Residence is filled with noble old trees which in sum- 
mer make a leafy roof over the pleasant walks. In the 
middle stands a grotto ornamented with rough pebbles and 
shells, and only needing a fountain to make it a perfect hall 



222 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

of Neptune. Passing through the northern arcade, one 
comes into the magnificent park called the English Garden, 
which extends more than four miles along the bank of the 
Isar, several branches of whose milky current wander 
through it and form one or two pretty cascades. It is a 
beautiful alternation of forest and meadow, and has all the 
richness and garden-like luxuriance of English scenery. 
Winding walks lead along the Isar or through the wood of 
venerable oaks, and sometimes a lawn of half a mile in 
length, with a picturesque temple at its farther end, comes 
in sight through the trees. I was better pleased with this 
park than with the Prater in Vienna. Its paths are always 
filled with persons enjoying the change from the dusty 
streets to its quiet and cool retirement. 

The New Residence is not only one of the wonders of 
Munich, but of the world. Although commenced in 1826 
and carried on constantly since that time by a number of 
architects, sculptors and painters, it is not yet finished ; if 
art were not inexhaustible, it would be difiScult to imagine 
what more could be added. The north side of the Max 
Joseph Platz is taken up by its front of four hundred and 
thirty feet, which was nine years in building, under the di- 
rection of the architect Klenze. The exterior is copied 
after the Palazzo Pitti, in Florence. The building is of 
light-brown sandstone, and combines an elegance, and even 
splendor, with the most chaste and classic style. The north- 
ern front, which faces on the royal garden, is now nearly 
finished. It has the enormous length of eight hundred 
feet ; in the middle is a portico of ten Ionic columns. In- 
stead of supporting a triangular fagade, each pillar stands 
separate and bears a marble statue from the chisel of 
Schwanthaler. 

The interior of the building does not disappoint the prom- 
ise of the outside. It is open every afternoon, in the ab- 
sence of the king, for the inspection of visitors ; fortunately 
for us, His Majesty is at present on a journey through his 



ORIENTAL MAGNIFICENCE. 223 

provinces on the Rhine. We went early to the waiting- 
hall, where several travellers were already assembled, and 
at four o'clock were admitted into the newer part of the 
palace, containing the throne-hall, ball-room, etc. On en- 
tering the first hall, designed for the lackeys and royal ser- 
vants, we were all obliged to thrust our feet into cloth slip- 
pers to walk over the polished mosaic floor. The walls are 
of scagliola marble and the ceilings ornamented brilliantly 
in fresco. The second hall, also for servants, gives tokens 
of increasing splendor in the richer decorations of the walls 
and the more elaborate mosaic of the floor. We next en- 
tered the receiving-saloon, in which the court-marshal re- 
ceives the guests. The ceiling is of arabesque sculpture pro- 
fusely painted and gilded. Passing through a little cab- 
inet, we entered the great dancing-saloon. Its floor is the 
richest mosaic of wood of different colors, the sides are of 
polished scagliola marble, and the ceiling a dazzling mix- 
ture of sculpture, painting and gold. At one end is a gal- 
lery for the orchestra, supported by six columns of varie- 
gated marble, above which are six dancing nymphs painted 
so beautifully that they appear like living creatures. Every 
decoration which could be devised has been used to heighten 
its splendor, and the artists appear to have made free use 
of the Arabian Nights in forming the plan. 

We entered next two smaller rooms containing the por- 
traits of beautiful women, principally from the German no- 
bility. I gave the preference to the daughter of Marco 
Bozzaris, now maid of honor to the queen of Greece. She 
had a wild dark eye, a beautiful proud lip, and her rich 
black hair rolled in glossy waves down her neck from under 
the red Grecian cap stuck jauntily on the side of her head. 
She wore a scarf and close-fitting vest embroidered with 
gold, and there was a free, lofty spirit in her countenance 
worthy the name she bore. These pictures form a gallery 
of beauty whose equal cannot easily be found. 

Returning to the dancing-hall, we entered the dining- 



224 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

saloon, also called the Hall of Charlemagne. Each wall 
has two magnificent fresco-paintings of very large size rep- 
resenting some event in the life of the great emperor, be- 
ginning with his anointing at St. Denis as a boy of twelve 
years and ending with his coronation by Leo III. A sec- 
ond dining-saloon, the Hall of Barbarossa, adjoins the first. 
It has also eight frescos, as the former, representing the 
principal events in the life of Frederick Barbarossa. Then 
comes a third, called the Hapsburg Hall, with four grand 
paintings from the life of Rudolph of Hapsburg and a tri- 
umphal procession along the frieze showing the improve- 
ment in the arts and sciences which was accomplished under 
his reign. The drawing, composition and rich tone of col- 
oring of these glorious frescos are scarcely excelled by any 
in existence. 

Finally we entered the Hall of the Throne. Here the 
encaustic decoration so plentifully employed in the other 
rooms is dropped, and an efiect even more brilliant obtained 
by the united use of marble and gold. Picture a long hall 
with a floor of polished marble, on each side twelve columns 
of white marble with gilded capitals, between which stand 
colossal statues of gold. At the other end is the throne of 
gold and crimson, with gorgeous hangings of crimson vel- 
vet. The twelve statues in the hall are called the " Wit- 
telsbach Ancestors," and represent renowned members of 
the house of Wittelsbach from which the present family of 
Bavaria is descended. They were cast in bronze by Stigl- 
maier after the models of Schwanthaler, and then com- 
pletely covered with a coating of gold ; so that they resem- 
ble solid golden statues. The value of the precious metal 
on each one is about three thousand dollars, as they are nine 
feet in height. What would the politicians who made such 
an outcry about the new papering of the President's house 
say to such a palace as this ? 

Going back to the starting-point, we went to the other 
wing of the edifice and joined the party who came to visit 



AN ATMOSPHEEE OF POETEY. 225 

the apartments of the king. Here we were led through 
two or three rooms appropriated to the servants, with all 
the splendor of marble doors, floors of mosaic and frescoed 
ceilings. From these we entered the king's dwelling. The 
entrance-halls are decorated with paintings of the Argo- 
nauts and illustrations of the hymns of Hesiod after draw- 
ings by Schwanthaler. Then came the service-hall, con- 
taining frescos illustrating Homer by Schnorr, and the 
throne-hall, with Schwanthaler's bas-reliefs of the songs of 
Pindar on a ground of gold. The throne stands under a 
splendid crimson canopy. The dining-room with its floor 
of polished wood is filled with illustrations of the songs of 
Anacreon. To these follow the dressing-room, with twenty- 
seven illustrations of the comedies of Aristophanes, and the 
sleeping-chamber with frescos after the poems of Theocri- 
tus, and two beautiful bas-reliefs representing angels bear- 
ing children to heaven. It is no wonder the king writes 
poetry, when he breathes, eats, and even sleeps, in an atmo- 
sphere of it. 

We were shown the rooms for the private parties of the 
court, the schoolroom, with scenes from the life of the an- 
cient Greeks, and then conducted down the marble stair- 
cases to the lower story, which is to contain Schnorr's mag- 
nificent frescos of the Nihelungen Lied — the old German 
Biad. Two halls are at present finished ; the first has the 
figure of the author, Heinrich von Ofterdingen, and those 
of Chriemhilde, Brunhilde, Siegfried and the other per- 
sonages of the poem, and the second — called the marriage- 
hall — contains the marriage of Chriemhilde aud Siegfried 
and the triumphal entry of Siegfried into Worms. 

Adjoining the New Residence on the east is the royal 
chapel, lately finished in the Byzantine style under the di- 
rection of Klenze. Tq enter, it is like stepping into a 
casket of jewels. The sides ara formed by a double range 
of arches, the windows being so far back as to be almost 
out of sight ; so that the eye falls on nothing but painting 

15 



226 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

and gold. The lower row of arches is of alternate green 
and purple marble beautifully polished, but the upper, as 
well as the small chancel behind the high altar, is entirely 
covered with fresco-paintings on a ground of gold. The 
richness and splendor of the whole church is absolutely in- 
credible. Even after one has seen the Ludwig's kirche and 
the residence itself it excites astonishment. I was surprised, 
however, to find at this age a painting on the wall behind 
the altar, representing the Almighty. It seems as if man's 
presumption has no end. The simple altar of Athens with 
its inscription " To the Unknown God " was more truly rev- 
erent than this. 

As I sat down a while under one of the arches a poor 
woman came in carrying a heavy basket, and, going to the 
steps which led up to the altar, knelt down and prayed, 
spreading her arms out in the form of a cross. Then, after 
stooping and kissing the first step, she dragged herself with 
her knees upon it, and commenced praying again with out- 
spread arms. This she continued till she had climbed them 
all, which occupied some time ; then, as if she had fulfilled 
a vow, she turned and departed. She was undoubtedly 
sincere in her piety, but it made me sad to look upon such 
deluded superstition. 

We visited yesterday morning the Glyptothek, the finest 
collection of ancient sculpture except that in the British 
Museum I have yet seen, and perhaps elsewhere unsurpassed 
north of the Alps. The building, which was finished by 
Klenze in 1830, has an Ionic portico of white marble, wi'th 
a group of allegorical figures representing Sculpture and 
the kindred arts. On each side of the portico there are 
three niches in the front, containing on one side Pericles, 
Phidias and Vulcan ; on the other, Hadrian, Prometheus 
and Dsedalus. The whole building forms a hollow square 
and is lighted entirely from the inner side. There are in 
all twelve halls, each containing the remains of a particular 
era in the art, and arranged according to time ; so that, be- 



ANCIENT GEECIAN SCULPTURES. 227 

ginning with the clumsy productions of the ancient Egypt- 
ians, one passes through the different stages of Grecian art, 
afterward that of Rome, and finally ends with the works 
of our own times— the almost Grecian perfection of Thor- 
waldsen and Canova. These halls are worthy to hold such 
treasures, and what more could be said of them? The 
floors are of marble mosaic, the sides of green or purple 
scagliola and the vaulted ceilings covered with raised orna- 
ments on a ground of gold. No two are alike in color and 
decoration, and yet there is a unity of taste and design in 
the whole which renders the variety delightful. 

From the Egyptian Hall we enter one containing the 
oldest remains of Grecian sculpture, before the artists won 
power to mould the marble to their conceijtions. Then 
follow the celebrated Egina marbles, from the temple of 
Jupiter Panhellenius, on the island of Egina. They for- 
merly stood in the two porticoes, the one group representing 
the fight for the body of Laomedon, the other the struggle 
for the dead Patroclus. The parts wanting have been 
admirably restored by Thorwaldsen. They form almost 
the only existing specimens of the Eginetan school. Passing 
through the Apollo Hall, we enter the large Hall of Bac^ 
chus, in which the progress of the art is distinctly apparent. 
A satyr lying asleep on a goatskin which he has thrown 
over a rock is believed to be the work of Praxiteles. The 
relaxation of the figure and perfect repose of every limb is 
wonderful. The countenance has traits of individuality 
which led me to think it might have been a portrait, perhaps 
of some rude country swain. 

In the Hall of Niobe, which follows, is one of the most 
perfect works that ever grew into life under a sculptor's 
chisel. Mutilated as it is, without head and arms, I never 
saw a more expressive figure. Ilioneus, the son of Niobe, is 
represented as kneeling, apparently in the moment in which 
Apollo raises his arrow, and there is an imploring supplica- 
tion in his attitude which is touching in the highest degree. 



228 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

His beautiful young limbs seem to shrink involuntarily 
from the deadly shaft ; there is an expression of prayer, 
almost of agony, in the position of his body. It should be 
left untouched. No head could be added which would equal 
that one pictures to himself while gazing upon it. 

The Pinacothek is a magnificent building of yellow sand- 
stone, five hundred and thirty feet long, containing thirteen 
hundred pictures selected with great care from the whole 
private collection of the king, which amounts to nine thou- 
sand. Above the cornice on the southern side stand twenty- 
five colossal statues of celebrated painters by Schwanthaier. 
As we approached, the tall bronze door was opened by a 
servant in the Bavarian livery, whose size harmonized so 
well with the giant proportions of the building that until I 
stood beside him and could mark the contrast I did not 
notice his enormous frame. I saw then that he must be 
near eight feet high and stout in proportion. He reminded 
me of the great " Baver of Trient," in Vienna. The Pina- 
cothek contains the most complete collection of works by 
old German artists anywhere to be found. There are in 
the Hall of the Spanish Masters half a dozen of Murillo's 
inimitable beggar-groups. It was a relief, after looking 
upon the distressingly stiflT figures of the old German school,, 
to view these fresh, natural countenances. One little black- 
eyed boy has just cut a slice out of a melon, and turns with. 
a full mouth to his companion, who is busy eating a bunch 
of grapes. The simple, contented expression on the faces of 
the beggars is admirable. I thought I detected in a beauti- 
ful child with dark curly locks the original of his celebrated 
infant St. John. I was much interested in two small juven- 
ile works of Kaphael and his own portrait. The latter was 
taken, most probably, after he became known as a painter. 
The calm, serious smile which we see on his portrait as a 
boy had vanished, and the thin features and sunken eye 
told of intense mental labor. 

One of the most remarkable buildings now in the course 



THE ATELIEE OF SCHWANTHALER. 229 

of erection is the basilica, or church, of St. Bonifacius. It 
represents another form of the Byzantine style — a kind of 
double edifice a little like a North River steamboat with a 
two-story cabin on deck. The inside is not yet finished, 
although the artists have been at work on it for six years, 
but we heard many accounts of its splendor, which is said 
to exceed anything that has been yet done in Munich. We 
visited to-day the atelier of Schwanthaler, which is always 
open to strangers The sculptor himself was not there, but 
five or six of his scholars were at work in the rooms build- 
ing up clay statues after his models and working out bas- 
reliefs in frames. We saw here the original models of the 
statues on the Pinacothek and the "Wittelsbach Ances- 
tors " in the throne-hall of the palace. I was glad, also, to 
find a miniature copy in plaster of the Herrmannsschlacht, 
or combat of the old German hero Herrmann with the Ro- 
mans, from the frieze of the Walhalla, at Ratisbon. It is 
one of Schwanthaler's best works. Herrmann, as the mid- 
dle figure, is represented in fight with the Roman general ; 
behind him the warriors are rushing on, and an old bard is 
striking the chords of his harp to inspire them, while wo- 
men bind up the wounds of the fallen. The Roman soldiers 
on the other side are about turning in confusion to fly. It 
is a lofty and appropriate subject for the portico of a build- 
ing containing the figures of the men who have labored for 
the glory and elevation of their fatherland. 

Our new-found friend came to visit us last evening and 
learn our impressions of Munich. In the course of conver- 
sation we surprised him by revealing the name of our coun- 
try. His countenance brightened up, and he asked us many 
questions about the state of society in America. In return 
he told us something more about himself; his story was 
simple, but it interested me. His father was a merchant 
who, having been ruined by unlucky transactions, died, 
leaving a numerous family without the means of support. 
His children were obliged to commence life alone and un- 



230 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

aided, wliicli in a country where labor is so cheap is difficult 
and disheartening. Our friend chose the profession of a 
machinist, which, after encountering great obstacles, he suc- 
ceeded in learning, and now supports himself as a common 
laborer. But his position in this respect prevents him from 
occupying that station in society for which he is intellectu- 
ally fitted. His own words, uttered with a simple pathos 
which I can never forget, will best describe how painful 
this must be to a sensitive spirit. " I tell you thus frankly 
my feelings," said he, " because I know you will understand 
me. I could not say this to any of my associates, for they 
would not comprehend it, and they would say I am proud, 
because I cannot bring my soul down to their level. I am 
poor and have but little to subsist upon ; but the spirit has 
needs as well as the body, and I feel it a duty and a desire 
to satisfy them also. When I am with any of my common 
fellow-laborers, what do I gain from them? Their leisure- 
hours are spent in drinking and idle amusement, and I can- 
not join them, for I have no sympathy with such things. 
To mingle with those above me would be impossible. There- 
fore I am alone ; I have no associate." 

I have gone into minute — and, it may be, tiresome — de- 
tail in describing some of the edifices of Munich, because 
it seemed the only way in which I could give an idea of 
their wonderful beauty. It is true that in copying after 
the manner of the daguerreotype there is danger of imitat- 
ing its dulness also, but I trust to the glitter of gold and 
rich paintings for a little brightness in the picture. We 
leave to-morrow morning, having -received the sum written 
for, which, to our surprise, will be barely sufficient to ena- 
ble us to reach Heidelberg. 



AUGSBUEG. 231 

CHAPTEK XXVII. 

THROUGH WURTEMBERG TO HEIDELBERG. 

We left Munich in the morning train for Augsburg. 
Between the two cities extends a vast unbroken plain ex- 
ceedingly barren and monotonous. Here and there is a 
little scrubby woodland, and sometimes we passed over a 
muddy stream which came down from the Alps. The land 
is not more than half cultivated, and the villages are small 
and poor. We saw many of the peasants at their stations 
in their gay Sunday dresses ; the women wore short gowns 
with laced bodices of gay colors, and little caps on the top 
of their heads, with streamers of ribbons three feet long. 

After two hours' ride we saw the tall towers of Augsburg, 
and alighted on the outside of the wall. The deep moat 
which surrounds the city is all grown over with velvet turf; 
the towers and bastions are empty and desolate, and we 
passed unchallenged under the gloomy archway. Immedi- 
ately on entering the city signs of its ancient splendor are 
apparent. The houses are old, many of them with quaint, 
elaborately carved ornaments, and often covered with 
fresco-paintings. These generally represent some scene 
from the Bible history encircled with arabesque borders 
and pious maxims in illuminated scrolls. We went into 
the old Rathhaus, whose golden hall still speaks of the days 
of Augsburg's pride. I saw in the basement a bronze eagle 
weighing sixteen tons, with an inscription on the pedestal 
stating that it was cast in 1606 and formerly stood on the 
top of an old public building since torn down. In front of 
the Rathhaus is a fine bronze fountain with a number of 
figures of angels and tritons. 

The same afternoon, we left Augsburg for Ulm. Long, 
low ranges of hills running from the Danube stretched far 
across the country, and between them lay many rich green 



232 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

valleys. We passed, occasionally, large villages, perhaps 
as old as the times of the crusaders, and looking quite pas- 
toral and romantic from the outside, but we were always 
glad when we had gone through them and into the clean 
country again. The afternoon of the second day w^e came 
in sight of the fertile plain of the Danube. Far, far to the 
right lay the field of Blenheim, where Marlborough and the 
prince Eugene conquered the united French and Bavarian 
forces and decided the war of the Spanish Succession. 

We determined to reach Ulm the same evening, although 
a heavy storm was raging along the distant hills of Wur- 
temberg. The dark mass of the mighty cathedral rose in 
the distance through the twilight — a perfect mountain in 
comparison with the little houses clustered around its base. 
We reached New Ulm finally, and passed over the heavy 
wooden bridge into Wurtemberg unchallenged for passport 
or baggage. I thought I could feel a difference in the at- 
mosphere when I reached the other side : it breathed of the 
freer spirit that ruled through the land. The Danube is 
here a little muddy stream hardly as large as my native 
Brandywine, and a traveller who sees it at Ulm for the first 
time would most probably be disappointed. It is not until 
below Vienna, where it receives the Drave and Save, that 
it becomes a river of more than ordinary magnitude. 

We entered Ulm, as I have already said. It was after 
nine o'clock, nearly dark and beginning to rain ; we had 
walked thirty-three miles, and being, of course, tired, we 
entered the first inn we saw. But, to our consternation, it 
was impossible to get a place : the fair had just commenced, 
and the inn was full to the roof. AVe must needs hunt another, 
and then another, and yet another, with like fate at each. 
It grew quite dark, the rain increased, and we were unac- 
quainted with the city. I grew desperate, and at last, when 
we had stopped at the eighth inn in vain, I told the people 
we must have lodgings, for it was impossible we should walk 
around in the rain all night. Some of the guests interfering 



ULM CATHEDKAL. 233 

in our favor, the hostess finally sent a servant with us to the 
first hotel in the city. I told him on the way we were Ameri- 
cans, strangers in Ulm, and not accustomed to sleeping in 
the streets. " Well," said he. " I will go befi3re, and recom- 
mend you to the landlord of the Golden Wheel." I knew 
not what magic he used, but in half an hour our weary 
limbs were stretched in delightful repose, and we thanked 
Heaven more gratefully than ever before for the blessing 
of a good bed. 

Next morning we ran about through the booths of the 
fair, and gazed up from all sides at the vast cathedral. 
The style is the simplest and grandest Gothic; but the 
tower — which, to harmonize with the body of the church, 
should be five hundred and twenty feet high — was left un- 
finished at the height of two hundred and thirty-four feet. 
I could not enough admire the grandeur of proportion in 
the great building. It seemed singular that the little race 
of animals who swarmed around its base should have the 
power to conceive or execute such a gigantic work. 

There is an immense fortification now in progress of erec- 
tion behind Ulm. It leans on the side of the hill which 
rises from the Danube, and must be nearly a mile in length. 
Hundreds of laborers are at work, and, from the appear- 
ance of the foundations, many years will be required to 
finish it. The lofty mountain-plain which we afterward 
passed over for eight or ten miles divides the waters of the 
Danube from the Rhine. From the heights above Ulm 
we bade adieu to the far misty Alps till we shall see them 
again in Switzerland. Late in the afternoon we came to a 
lovely green valley sunk as it were in the earth. Around 
us on all sides stretched the bare, lofty plains, but the val- 
ley lay below, its steep sides covered with the richest forest. 
At the bottom flowed the Fils. Our road led directly down 
the side ; the glen spread out broader as we advanced and 
smiling villages stood beside the stream. A short distance 
before reaching Esslingen we came upon the banks of the 



234 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Neckar, whom we hailed as an old acquaintance, although 
much smaller here in his mountain-home than when he 
sweeps the walls of Heidelberg. 

Delightful Wurtemberg ! Shall I ever forget thy lovely 
green vales watered by the classic current of the Neckar, 
or thy lofty hills covered with vineyards and waving for- 
ests and crowned with heavy ruins that tell many a tale of 
Barbarossa and Duke Ulric and Goetz with the Iron Hand ? 
No ! Were even the Suabian hills less beautiful, were the 
Suabian people less faithful and kind and true, still I would 
love the land for the great spirits it has produced; still 
would the birthplace of Frederick Schiller, of Uhland and 
Hauff, be sacred. I do not wonder Wurtemberg can boast 
such glorious poets. Its lovely landscapes seem to have 
been made expressly for the cradle of Genius ; amid no 
other scenes could his infant mind catch a more benign in- 
spiration. Even the common people are deeply imbued 
with a poetic feeling. We saw it in their friendly greetings 
and open expressive countenances ; it is shown in their love 
for their beautiful homes and the rapture and reverence 
with which they speak of their country's bards. No river 
in the world equal to the Neckar in size flows for its whole 
course through more delightful scenery or among kinder 
and happier people. 

After leaving Esslingen, we followed its banks for some 
time at the foot of an amphitheatre of hills covered to the 
very summit, as far as the eye could reach, with vineyards. 
The morning was cloudy and white mist-wreaths hung 
along the sides. We took a road that lead over the top of 
a range, and on arriving at the summit saw all at once the 
city of Stuttgard lying beneath our feet. It lay in a basin 
encircled by mountains, with a narrow valley opening to 
the south-east and running off between the hills to the 
Neckar. The situation of the city is one of wonderful 
beauty, and even after seeing Salzburg I could not but be 
charmed with it. 



SCHILLEK'S STATUE. 235 

We descended the mountain and entered it. I inquired 
immediately for the monument of Schiller, for there was 
little else in the city I cared to see. We had become tired 
of running about cities hunting this or that old church or 
palace which perhaps was nothing when found. Stuttgard 
has neither galleries, ruins nor splendid buildings to inter- 
est the traveller, but it has Thorwaldsen's statue of Schiller, 
calling up, at the same time, its shame and its glory. 
For the poet in his youth was obliged to fly from this very 
same city — from home and friends — to escape the persecu- 
tion of the government on account of the free sentiments 
expressed in his early works. We found the statue with- 
out much difficulty. It stands in the Schloss Platz, at the 
southern end of the city, in an unfavorable situation sur- 
rounded by dark old buildings. It should rather be placed 
aloft on a mountain-summit, in the pure, free air of heaven, 
braving the storm and the tempest. The figure is fourteen 
feet high and stands on a pedestal of bronze with bas-re- 
liefs on the four sides. The head, crowned with a laurel 
wreath, is inclined as if in deep thought, and all the earn- 
est soul is seen in the countenance. Thorwaldsen has 
copied so truly the expression of poetic reverie that I 
waited, half expecting he would raise his head and look 
around him. 

As we passed out the eastern gate the workmen were busy 
near the city making an embankment for the new railroad 
to Heilbronn, and we were obliged to wade through half a 
mile of mud. Finally the road turned to the left over a 
mountain, and we walked on in the rain, regardless of the 
touching entreaties of an omnibus-driver who felt a great 
concern for our health, especially as he had two empty seats. 
There is a peculiarly agreeable sensation in walking in a 
storm when the winds sweep by and the raindrops rattle 
through the trees and the dark clouds roll past just above 
one's head. It gives a dash of sublimity to the most com- 
mon scene. If the rain did not finally soak through the 



236 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

boots, and if one did not lose every romantic feeling in wet 
garments, I would .prefer storm to sunshine for visiting 
some kinds of scenery. You remember we saw the north 
coast of Ireland and the Giant's Causeway in stormy weather 
— at the expense of being completely drenched, it is true ; 
but our recollections of that wild day's journey are as vivid 
as any event of our lives, and the name of the Giant's Cause- 
way calls up a series of pictures as terribly sublime as any 
we would wish to behold. 

The rain at last did come down a little too hard for com- 
fort, and we were quite willing to take shelter when we 
reached Ludwigsburg. This is here called a new city, hav- 
ing been laid out with broad streets and spacious squares 
about a century ago, and is now about the size of our five- 
year-old city of Milwaukee. It is the chief military station 
of Wurtemberg, and has a splendid castle and gardens be- 
longing to the king. A few miles to the eastward is the 
little village where Schiller was born. It is said the h(»use 
where his parents lived is still standing. 

It was not the weather alone which prevented our mak- 
ing a pilgrimage to it, nor was it alone a peculiar fondness 
for rain which induced us to persist in walking in the storm. 
Our feeble pockets, if they could have raised an audible 
jingle, would have told another tale. Our scanty allow- 
ance was dwindling rapidly away in spite of a desperate 
system of economy. We left Ulm with a florin and a half 
apiece — about sixty cents — to walk to Heidelberg, a distance* 
of one hundred and ten miles. It was the evening of the 
third day, and this was almost exhausted. As soon, there- 
fore, as the rain slackened a little, we started again, although 
the roads were very bad. At Betigheim, where we passed 
the night, the people told us of a much nearer and more 
beautiful road passing through the Zabergau, a region 
famed for its fertility and pastoral beauty. At the inn we 
were charged higher than usual for a bed ; so that we had 
but thirteen kreutzers to start with in the morning. Our 



THE ZABEEGAU. 237 

fare that day was a little bread and water. We walked 
steadily on, but, owing to the wet roads, made only thirty 

miles. 

A more delightful region than the Zabergau I have sel- 
dom passed through. The fields were full of rich, heavy 
grain, and the trees had a luxuriance of foliage that re- 
minded me of the vale of the Jed, in Scotland. Without a 
single hedge or fence stood the long sweep of hills covered 
with waving fields of grain, except where they were steep 
and rocky and the vineyard terraces rose one above another. 
Sometimes a fine old forest grew along the summit like a 
mane waving back from the curved neck of a steed, and 
white villages lay coiled in the valleys between. A line of 
blue mountains always closed the vista on looking down 
one of these long valleys ; occasionally a ruined castle with 
donjon-tower was seen on a mountain at the side, making 
the picture complete. As we lay sometimes on the hillside 
and looked on one of those sweet vales, we were astonished 
at its Arcadian beauty. The meadows were as smooth as a 
mirror, and there seemed to be scarcely a grass-blade out 
of place. The streams wound through (" snaked themselves 
through" is the German expression) with a subdued ripple, 
as if they feared to displace a pebble, and the great ash 
trees which stood here and there had lined each of their 
leaves as carefully with silver and turned them as gracefully 
to the wind as if they were making their toilettes for the 
gala-day of nature. 

That evening brought us into the dominions of Baden, 
within five hours' walk of Heidelberg. At the humblest 
inn in a humble village, we found a bed which we could 
scarcely pay for, leaving a kreutzer or two for breakfast. 

Soon after starting the next morning the distant Kaiser- 
stuhl suddenly emerged from the mist, with the high tower 
on its summit where nearly ten months before we sat and 
looked at the summits of the Vosges in France, with all 
the excitement one feels on entering a foreign land. Now 



238 • VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the scenery around that same Kaiser-stuhl was nearly as 
familiar to us as that of our own homes. Entering the 
hills again, we knew by the blue mountains of the Oden- 
wald that we were approaching the Neckar. At length we 
reached the last height. The town of Neckargemiind lay 
before us on the steep hillside, and the mountains on either 
side were scarred with quarries of the rich red sandstone so 
much used in building. The blocks are hewn out high up 
on the mountain-side, and then sent rolling and sliding 
down to the river, where they are laden in boats and floated 
down with the current to the distant cities of the Rhine. 

We were rejoiced, on turning around the corner of a 
mountain, to see on the opposite side of the river the road 
winding up through the forests where last fall our Heidel- 
berg friends accompanied us as we set out to walk to Frank- 
fort through the Odenwald. Many causes combined to ren- 
der it a glad scene to us. We were going to meet our com- 
rade again after a separation of months ; we were bringing 
an eventful journey to its close ; and, finally, we w^ere weak 
and worn out from fasting and the labor of walkino; in the 
rain. A little farther we saw Kloster Neuburg, formerly 
an old convent, and remembered how we used to look at it 
every day from the windows of our room on the Neckar, 
but we shouted aloud when we saw at last the well-known 
bridge spanning the river and the glorious old castle lifting 
its shattered towers from the side of the mountain above us. 
I always felt a strong attachment to this matchless ruin, 
and as I beheld it again, with tlie warm sunshine falling 
through each broken arch, the wild ivy draping its desolate 
chambers, it seemed to smile on me like the face of a friend, 
and I confessed I had seen many a grander scene, but few 
that would cling to the memory so familiarly. 

While we were in Heidelberg a student was buried by 
torchlight. This is done when particular honor is shown 
to the memory of the departed brother. They assembled 
at dark in the university square, each with a blazing pine 



BUEIAL OF A STUDENT. 239 

torch three feet long, and formed into a double line. Be- 
tween the files walked at short distances an officer, who with 
his sword, broad lace collar and the black-and-white plumes 
in his cap looked like a cavalier of the olden time. Per- 
sons with torches walked on each side of the hearse, and 
the band played a lament so deeply mournful that the scene, 
notwithstanding its singularity, was very sad and touching. 
The thick smoke from the torches filled the air, and a lurid 
red light was cast over the hushed crowds in the streets and 
streamed into the dark alleys. The Hauptstrasse was filled 
with two lines of flame as the procession passed down it. 
When they reached the extremity of the city, the hearse 
went on, attended with torch-bearers, to the cemetery, some 
distance farther, and the students turned back, running and 
whirling their torches in mingled confusion. The music 
struck up a merry march, and in the smoke and red glare 
they looked like a company of mad demons. The presence 
of Death awed them to silence for a while, but as soon as 
it had left them they turned relieved to revel again, and 
tliought no more of the lesson. It gave me a painful feel- 
ing to see them rushing so wildly and disorderly back. 
They assembled again in the square, and, tossing their 
torches up into the air, cast them blazing into a pile ; while 
the flame and black smoke rose in a column into the air 
they sang in solemn chorus the song " Gaudeamus igitur," 
with which they close all public assemblies. 

I shall neglect telling how we left Heidelberg and w^alked 
along the Bergstrasse again — for the sixth time ; how we 
passed the old Melibochus and through the quiet city of 
Darmstadt; how we watched the blue summits of the Tau- 
nus rising higher and higher over the plain as a new land 
rises from the sea ; and, finally, how we reached at last the 
old watch-tower and looked down on the valley of the Main, 
clothed in the bloom and verdure of summer, with the 
houses and spires of Frankfort in the middle of the well- 
known panorama. We again took possession of our old 



240 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

rooms, and, having to wait for a remittance from America, 
as well as a more suitable season for visiting Italy, we sat 
down to a month's rest and study. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

FREIBURG AND THE BLACK FOREST. 

Frankfort, July 29, 1845, 
It would be ingratitude toward the old city in which I 
have passed so many pleasant and profitable hours to leave 
it — perhaps for ever — without a few words of farewell. 
How often will the old bridge with its view up the Main, 
over the houses of Oberrad, to the far mountains of the 
Odenwald, rise freshly and distinctly in memory when I 
shall have been long absent from them ! How often will I 
hear in fancy, as I now do in reality, the heavy tread of 
passers-by on the rough pavement below, and the deep bell 
of the cathedral chiming the swift hours with a hollow tone 
that seems to warn me rightly to employ them ! Even this 
old room, with its bare walls, little table and chairs, which 
I have thought and studied in so long that it seems difficult 
to think and study anywhere else, will crowd out of memory 
images of many a loftier scene. May I but preserve for 
the future the hope and trust which have cheered and sus- 
tained me here through the sorrow of absence and the 
anxiety of uncertain toil! It is growing toward mid- 
night, and I think of many a night when I sat here at this 
hour answering the spirit-greeting which friends sent me at 
sunset over the sea. All this has now an end. I must be- 
gin a new wandering, and perhaps in ten days more I shall 
have a better place for thought among the mountain-cham- 
bers of the everlasting Alps. I look forward to the jour- 
ney with romantic, enthusiastic anticipation, for afar in the 



FAEEWELL TO HEIDELBEEG. 241 

silvery distance stand the Coliseum and St. Peter's, Vesu? 

vius and the lovely Naples — Farewell, friends, who have 

so long given us a home ! 

Aug. 9, 

The airy basket-work tower of the Freiburg minster 
rises before me over the black roofs of the houses, and be- 
hind stand the gloomy pine-covered mountains of the 
Black Forest. Of our walk to Heidelberg over the oft- 
trodden Bergstrasse, I shall say nothing, nor how we 
climbed the Kaiser-stuhl again, and danced around on the 
top of the tower for one hour amid cloud and mist, while 
there was sunshine below in the valley of the Neckar, I 
left Heidelberg yesterday morning in the stehwagen for 
Carlsruhe. The engine whistled, the train started, and, 
although I kept my eyes steadily fixed on the spire of the 
Hauptkirche, three minutes hid it and all the rest of the 
city from sight. Carlsruhe, the capital of Baden — which 
we reached in an hour and a half— is unanimously pro- 
nounced by travellers to be a most dull and tiresome city. 
From a glance I had through one of the gates, I should 
think its reputation was not undeserved. Even its name in 
German signifies a place of repose. 

I stopped at Kork, on the branch-road leading to Stras- 
bourg, to meet a Germ an- American about to return to my 
home in Pennsylvania, where he had lived for some time. 
I inquired according to the direction he had sent me to 
Frankfort, but he was not there; however, an old man, 
finding who I was, said Herr Otto had directed him to go 
with me to Hesselhurst, a village four or five miles off*, 
where he would meet me. So we set off* immediately over 
the plain, and reached the village at dusk. 

At the little inn were several of the farmers of the neigh- 
borhood, who seemed to consider it as something extraor- 
dinary to see a real, live, native-born American. They 
overwhelmed me with questions about the state of our 
country, its government, etc. The hostess brought me a 

16 



242 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

supper of fried eggs and wurst, while they gathered around 
the table and began a real category in the dialect of the 
country, which is difficult to understand. I gave them the 
best information I could about our mode of farming, the 
different kinds of produce raised and the prices paid to 
laborers. One honest old man cried out, on my saying I 
had worked on a farm, "Ah, little brother! give me your 
hand," which he shook most heartily. I told them, also, 
something about our government and the militia system, so 
different from the conscription of Europe, when a farmer 
becoming quite warm in our favor said to the others, with 
an air of the greatest decision, " One American is better 
than twenty Germans." What particularly amused me 
was that, although I spoke German with them, they seemed 
to think I did not understand what they said among one 
another, and therefore commented very freely over my ap- 
pearance. I suppose they had the idea that we were a rude, 
savage race, for I overheard one say, " One sees, neverthe- 
less, that he has been educated." Their honest, unsophisti- 
cated mode of expression was very interesting to me, and 
we talked together till a late hour. 

My friend arrived at three o'clock the next morning, and, 
after two or three hours' talk about home and the friends 
whom he expected to see so much sooner than I, a young 
farmer drove me in his wagon to Offenburg, a small city at 
the foot of the Black Forest, where I took the cars for 
Freiburg. The scenery between the two places is grand. 
The broad mountains of the Black Forest rear their fronts 
on the east, and the blue lines of the French Vosges meet 
the clouds on the west. The night before, in walking over 
the plain, I saw distinctly the whole of the Strasbourg min- 
ster, whose spire is the highest in Europe, being four hun- 
dred and ninety feet, or but twenty-five feet lower than the 
Pyramid of Cheops. 

I visited the minster of Freiburg yesterday morning. It 
is a grand, gloomy old pile dating from the eleventh cen- 




MARKET-DAY. 243 

tury— one of the few Gothic churches in Germany that 
have ever been completed. The tower of beautiful fret- 
work rises to the height of three hundred and ninety-five 
feet, and the body of the church, including the choir, is of 
the same length. The interior is solemn and majestic. 
Windows stained in colors that burn let in a " dim relig- 
ious light " which accords very well with the dark old pil- 
lars and antique shrines. In two of the chapels there are 
some fine altar-pieces by Holbein and one of his scholars, 
and a very large crucifix of silver and ebony, which is kept 
with great care, is said to have been carried with the cru- 
saders to the Holy Land. 

This morning was the great market-day, and the peasan- 
try of the Black Forest came down from the mountains to 
dispose of their produce. The square around the minster 
was filled with them, and the singular costume of the 
women gave the scene quite a strange appearance. Many 
of them wore bright red headdresses and shawls, others had 
high-crowned hats of yellow oilcloth ; the young girls wore 
their hair in long plaits reaching nearly to their feet. They 
brought grain, butter and cheese and a great deal of fine 
fruit to sell. I bought some of the wild, aromatic plums 
of the country at the rate of thirty for a cent. 

The railroad has only been open to Freiburg within a 
few days, and is consequently an object of great curiosity 
to the peasants, many of whom never saw the like before. 
They throng around the station at the departure of the 
train, and watch with great interest the operations of get- 
ting up the steam and starting. One of the scenes that 
grated most harshly on my feelings was seeing yesterday a 
company of women employed on the unfinished part of the 
road. They were digging and shovelling away in the rain, 
nearly up to their knees in mud and clay. 

I called at the institute for the blind, under the direction 
of Mr. Miiller. He showed me some beautiful basket and 
woven work by his pupils. The accuracy and skill with 



244 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

which everything was made astonished me. They read with 
amazing facility from the raised type, and by means of 
frames are taught to write with ease and distinctness. In 
music — that great solace of the blind — they most excelled. 
They sang with an expression so true and touching that it 
was a delight to listen. The system of instruction adopted 
appears to be most excellent, and gives to the blind nearly 
every advantage which their more fortunate brethren enjoy. 

I am indebted to Mr. Miiller — ^to whom I was introduced 
by an acquaintance with his friend Dr. Rivinus of West 
Chester, Pa. — for many kind attentions. He went with us 
this afternoon to the Jagerhaus, on a mountain near, where 
we had a very fine view of the city and its great black 
minster, with the plain of the Briesgau, broken only by the 
Kaiser-stuhl, a long mountain near the Rhine, whose golden 
stream glittered in the distance. On climbing the Schloss- 
berg, an eminence near the city, we met the grand duchess 
Stephanie, a natural daughter of Napoleon, as I have heard, 
and now generally believed to be the mother of Caspar 
Hauser. Through a work lately published, which has since 
been suppressed, the whole history has come to light. Cas- 
par Hauser was the lineal descendant of the house of Baden, 
and heir to the throne. The guilt of his imprisonment and 
murder rests, therefore, upon the present reigning family. 

A chapel on the Schonberg, the mountain opposite, was 
pointed out as the spot where Louis XV. — if I mistake not — 
usually stood while his army besieged Freiburg. A Ger- 
man ofiicer having sent a ball to this chapel which struck 
the wall just above the king's head, the latter sent word 
that if they did not cease firing he would point his cannons 
at the minster. The citizens thought it best to spare the 
monarch and save the cathedral. 

"We attended a meeting of the Walhalla, or society of the 
students who visit the Freiburg university. They pleased 
me better than the enthusiastic but somewhat unrestrained 
Burschenschaft of Heidelberg. Here they have abolished 



THE WALHALLA. 245 

duelling; the greatest friendship prevails among the stu- 
dents, and they have not that contempt for everything 
philister — or unconnected with their studies — which pre- 
vails in other universities. Many respectable citizens at- 
tend their meetings ; to-night there was a member of the 
chamber of deputies at Carlsruhe present, who delivered 
two speeches in which every third word was "freedom." 
An address was delivered, also, by a merchant of the city, 
in which he made a play upon the word " spear," which 
signifies also, in a cant sense, " citizen," and seemed to in- 
dicate that both would do their work in the good cause. 
He was loudly applauded. Their song of union was by 
Charles Follen, and the students were much pleased when 
I told them how he was honored and esteemed in America. 

After two days delightfully spent we shouldered our knap- 
Backs and left Freiburg. The beautiful valley at the mouth 
of which the city lies runs like an avenue for seven miles 
directly into the mountains, and presents in its loveliness 
such a contrast to the horrid defile which follows that it 
almost deserves the name which has been given to a little 
inn at its head — the " Kingdom of Heaven. The moun- 
tains of the Black Forest enclose it on each side like walls, 
covered to the summit with luxuriant woods, and in some 
places with those forests of gloomy pine which give this re- 
gion its name. After traversing its whole length, just be- 
fore plunging into the mountain-depths the traveller rarely 
meets with a finer picture than that which, on looking back, 
he sees framed between the hills at the other end. Freiburg 
looks around the foot of one of the heights, with the spire 
of her cathedral peeping above the top, while the French 
Vosges grew dim in the far perspective. 

The road now enters a wild, narrow valley which grows 
smaller as we proceed. From Himmelreich, a large rude inn 
by the side of the green meadows, we enter the Hollenthal — 
that is, from the " Kingdom of Heaven " to the " Valley of 
Hell" The latter place better deserves its appellation than 



24S VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the former. The road winds between precipices of black 
rock, above which the thick foliage shuts out the brightness 
of day and gives a sombre hue to the scene. A torrent 
foams down the chasm, and in one place two mighty pillars 
interpose to prevent all passage. The stream, however, has 
worn its way through, and the road is hewn in the rock by 
its side. This cleft is the only entrance to a valley three or 
four miles long which lies in the very heart of the mountains. 
It is inhabited by a few woodmen ^nd their families, and, 
but for the road which passes through, would be as perfect 
a solitude as the Happy Valley of Rasselas. At the farther 
end a winding road called " The Ascent " leads up the steep 
mountain to an elevated region of country thinly settled 
and covered with herds of cattle. The cherries — which in 
the Rhine-plain below had long gone — were just ripe here. 
The people spoke a most barbarous dialect ; they were social 
and friendly, for everybody greeted us, and sometimes, as 
we sat on a bank by the roadside, those who passed by 
would say " Rest thee !" or " Thrice rest !" 

Passing by the Titi Lake, a small body of water which 
was spread out among the hills like a sheet of ink, so deep 
was its Stygian hue, we commenced ascending a mountain. 
The highest peak of the Schwarzwald, the Feldberg, rose 
not far off, and on arriving at the top of this mountain we 
saw that a half hour's walk would bring us to its summit. 
This was too great a temptation for my love of climbing 
heights ; so, with a look at the descending sun to calculate 
how much time we could spare, we set out. There was no 
path, but we pressed directly up the steep side through 
bushes and long grass, and in a short time reached the top, 
breathless from such exertion in the thin atmosphere. The 
pine-woods shut out the view to the north and east, which 
is said to be magnificent, as the mountain is about five 
thousand feet high. The wild black peaks of the Black 
Forest were spread below us, and the sun sank through 
golden mist toward the Alsatian hills. Afar to the south, 



THE BLACK FOREST. 247 

through cloud and storm, we could just trace the white out- 
line of the Swiss Alps. The wind swept through the pines 
ai'ound, and bent the long yellow grass among which we 
sat, with a strange, mournful sound well suiting the gloomy 
and mysterious region. It soon grew cold ; the golden 
clouds settled down toward us, and we made haste to de- 
scend to the village of Lenzkirch before dark. 

Next morning we set out early, without waiting to see the 
trial of archery which was to take place among the moun- 
tain-youths. Their booths and targets, gay with banners, 
stood on a green meadow beside the town. We walked 
through the Black Forest the whole forenoon. It might be 
owing to the many wild stories whose scenes are laid among 
these hills, but with me there was a peculiar feeling of 
solemnity pervading the whole region. The great pine- 
woods are of the very darkest hue of green, and down their 
hoary, moss-floored aisles daylight seems never to have 
shone. The air was pure and clear and the sunshine bright, 
but it imparted no gayety to the scenery ; except the little 
meadows of living emerald which lay occasionally in the 
lap of a dell, the landscape wore a solemn and serious air. 
In a storm it must be sublime. 

About noon, from the top of the last range of hills, we 
had a glorious view. The line of the distant Alps could be 
faintly traced high in the clouds, and all the heights be- 
tween were plainly visible, from the Lake of Constance to 
the misty Jura, which flanked the Vosges of the west. 
From our lofty station we overlooked half Switzerland, and, 
had the air been a little clearer, we could have seen Mont 
Blanc and the mountains of Savoy. I could not help envy- 
ing the feelings of the Swiss who, after long absence from 
their native land, flrst see the Alps from this road. If to 
the emotions with which I then looked on them were added 
the passionate love of home and country which a long ab- 
sence creates, such excess of rapture would be almost too 
great to be borne. 



248 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

In the afternoon we crossed the border, and took leave 
of Germany with regret, after near a year's residence with- 
in its bounds. Still, it was pleasant to know we were in a 
republic once more. The first step we took made us aware 
of the change. There was no policeman to call for our 
passports or search our baggage. 

It was just dark when we reached the hill overlooking 
the Rhine, on whose steep banks is perched the antique 
town of Schaffhausen. It is still walled in, with towers at 
regular intervals ; the streets are wide and spacious, and 
the houses rendered extremely picturesque by the quaint 
projecting windows. The buildings are nearly all old, as 
we learned by the dates above the doors. At the inn I met 
with one of the free troopers who marched against Luzerne ; 
he was full of spirit and ready to undertake another such 
journey. Indeed, it is the universal opinion that the pres- 
ent condition of things cannot last much longer. 

We took a w^alk before breakfast to the Falls of the 
Rhine, about a mile and a half from Schaffhausen. I con- 
fess I was somewhat disappointed in them, after the glowing 
descriptions of travellers. The river at this place is little 
more than thirty yards wide, and the body of water, al- 
though issuing from the Lake of Constance, is not remark- 
ably strong. For some distance above, the fall of water is 
very rapid, and as it finally reaches the spot where, narrow- 
ed between rocks, it makes the grand plunge, it has acquir- 
ed a great velocity. Three rocks stand in the middle of 
the current, which thunders against and around their bases, 
but cannot shake them down. These, and the rocks in the 
bed of the stream, break the force of the fall ; so that it de- 
scends to the bottom, about fifty feet below, not in one sheet, 
but shivered into a hundred leaps of snowy foam. The 
precipitous shores and the tasteful little castle which is 
perched upon the steep just over the boiling spray add 
much to its beauty, taken as a picture. As a specimen of 
the picturesque, the whole scene is perfect. I should think 



A REMINDER OF PENNSYLVANIA. 249 

Trenton Falls, in New York, must excel these in wild, starts 
ling effect ; but there is such a scarcity of waterfalls in this 
land that the Germans go into raptures about them, and 
will hardly believe that Niagara itself possesses more sub- 
limity. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

PEOPLE AND PLACES IN EASTEKN SWITZERLAND. 

We left Schaffhausen for Zurich in mist and rain, and 
walked for some time along the' north bank of the Rhine. 
We could have enjoyed the scenery much better had it not 
been for the rain, which not only hid the mountains from 
sight, but kept us constantly half soaked. We crossed the 
rapid Rhine at Eglisau, a curious antique village, and then 
continued our way through the forests of Canton Zurich to 
Biilach, with its groves of lindens—" those tall and stately 
trees, with velvet down upon their shining leaves, and rustic 
benches placed beneath their overhanging eaves." 

When we left the little village where the rain obliged us 
to stop for the night, it was clear and delightful. The 
farmers were out, busy at work, their long, straight scythes 
glancing through the wet grass, while the thick pines spark- 
led with thousands of dewy diamonds. The country was so 
beautiful and cheerful that we half felt like being in Amer- 
ica. The farmhouses were scattered over the country in 
real American style, and the glorious valley of the Limmat, 
bordered on the west by a range of woody hills, reminded 
me of some scenes in my native Pennsylvania. The houses 
were neatly and tastefully built, with little gardens around 
them, and the countenances of the people spoke of intelli- 
gence and independence. There was the same air of peace 
and prosperity which delighted us in the valleys of Upper 
Austria, y/ith a look of freedom which those had not. The 



260 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

faces of a people are the best index to their condition. I 
could read on their brows a lofty self-respect, a conscious- 
ness of the liberties they enjoy, which the Germans of the 
laboring-class never show. It could not be imagination, for 
the recent occurrences in Switzerland, with the many state- 
ments I heard in Germany, had prejudiced me somewhat 
against the land, and these marks of prosperity and freedom 
were as ^rprising as they were delightful. 

As we approached Zurich the noise of employment from 
mills, furnaces and factories came to us like familiar sounds, 
reminding us of the bustle of our home-cities. The situation 
of the city is lovely. It lies at the head of the lake and on 
both sides of the little river Limmat, whose clear green 
waters carry the collected meltings of the Alps to the Rhine. 
Around the lake rise lofty green hills which, sloping gently 
back, bear on their sides hundreds of pleasant country-houses 
and farms, and the snowy Alpine range extends along the 
southern sky. The Limmat is spanned by a number of 
bridges, and its swift waters turn many mills which are 
built above them. From these bridges one can look out 
over the blue lake and down the thronged streets of the 
city on each side, whose bright, cheerful houses remind him 
of Italy. 

Zurich can boast of finer promenades than any other city 
in Switzerland. The old battlements are planted with trees 
and transformed into pleasant walks, which, being elevated 
above the city, command views of its beautiful environs. 
A favorite place of resort is the Lindenhof, an elevated 
court-yard shaded by immense trees. The fountains of water 
under them are always surrounded by washerwomen, and 
in the morning groups of merry school-children may be seen 
tumbling over the grass. The teachers take them there in 
a body for exercise and recreation. The Swiss children are 
beautiful, bright-eyed creatures ; there is scarcely one who 
does not exhibit the dawning of an active, energetic spirit. 
It may be partly attributed to the fresh, healthy climate of 



KINDLY GREETINGS. 251 

Switzerland, but I am partial enough to republics to believe 
that the influence of the government under which they live 
has also its share in producing the effect. 

There is a handsome promenade on an elevated bastion 
which overlooks the city and lakes. While enjoying the 
cool morning breeze and listening to the stir of the streets 
below us, we were also made aware of the social and friendly 
politeness of the people. Those w^ho passed by on their 
walk around the rampart greeted us almost with the famil- 
iarity of an acquaintance. Simple as was the act, we felt 
grateful, for it had at least the seeming of a friendly interest 
and a sympathy with the loneliness which the stranger 
sometimes feels. A school-teacher leading her troop of 
merry children on their morning walk around the bastion 
nodded to us pleasantly, and forthwith the whole company 
of chubby-cheeked rogues, looking up at us with a pleasant 
archness, lisped a " Guten morgen I" that made the hearts 
glad within us. I know of nothing that has given me a 
more sweet and tender delight than the greeting of a little 
child who, leaving his noisy playmates, ran across the street 
to me, and, taking my hand — which he could barely clasp 
in both his soft little ones — looked up in my face with an 
expression so winning and affectionate that I loved him 
at once. The happy, honest farmers, too, spoke to us cheer- 
fully everywhere. We learned a lesson from all this: we 
felt that not a word of kindness is ever wasted, that a sim- 
ple friendly glance may cheer the spirit and warm the lonely 
heart, and that the slightest deed prompted by generous 
sympathy becomes a living joy in the memory of the receiver 
which blesses unceasingly him who bestowed it. 

We left Zurich the same afternoon to walk to Stafa, 
where we were told the poet Freiligrath resided. The road 
led along the bank of the lake, whose shores sloped gently 
up from the water, covered with gardens and farmhouses, 
which, with the bolder mountains that rose behind them, 
made a combination of the lovely and grand on which the 



252 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

eye rested with rapture and delight. The sweetest cottages 
were embowered among the orchards, and the whole coun- 
try bloomed like a garden. The waters of the lake are of 
a pale, transparent green, and so clear that we could see 
its bottom of white pebbles for some distance. Here and 
there floated a quiet boat on its surface. The opposite hills 
were covered with a soft blue haze, and white villages sat 
along the shore " like swans among the reeds." Behind, 
we saw the woody range of the Brunig Alp. The people 
bade us a pleasant " Good-evening." There was a univer- 
sal air of cheerfulness and content on their countenances. 

Toward evening the clouds which hung in the south the. 
whole day dispersed a little, and we could see the Dodiberg 
and the Alps of Glarus. As sunset drew on, the broad 
summits of snow and the clouds which were rolled around 
them assumed a soft rosy hue which increased in bril- 
liancy as the light of day faded. The rough icy crags and 
snowy steeps were fused in the warm light and half 
blended with the bright clouds. This blaze, as it were, of 
the mountains at sunset, is called the " Alp-glow," and ex- 
ceeds all one's highest conceptions of Alpine grandeur. 
We watched the fading glory till it quite died away and 
the summits w^ore a livid, ashy hue, like the mountains of 
a world wherein there was no life. In a few minutes more 
the dusk of twilight spread over the scene, the boatmen 
glided home over the still lake and the herdsmen drove 
their cattle back from pasture on the slopes and meadows. 

On inquiring for Freiligrath at Stafa we found he had 
removed to Rapperschwyl, some distance farther. As it 
was already late, we waited for the steamboat which leaves 
Zurich every evening. It came along about eight o'clock, 
and a little boat carried us out through rain and darkness 
to meet it as it came like a fiery-eyed monster over the 
water. We stepped on board the " Republican," and in 
half an hour were brought to the wharf at Rapperschwyl.. 

There are two small islands in the lake, one of which, 



A MOENING WITH FEEILIGEATH. 253 

with a little chapel rising from among its green trees, is 
Ufnau, the grave of Ulrich von Hutten, one of the fkthers 
of the German Reformation. His fiery poems have been 
the source from which many a German bard has derived 
his inspiration, and Freiligrath, who now lives in sight of 
his tomb, has published an indignant poem because an inn 
with gaming-tables has been established in the ruins of the 
castle near Creutznach where Hutten found refuge from his 
enemies with Franz von Sickingen, brother-in-law of Goetz 
with the Iron Hand. The monks of Einsiedeln, to whom 
Ufnau belongs, have carefully obliterated all traces of his 
grave, so that the exact spot is not known, in order that 
even a tombstone might be denied him who once strove to 
overturn their order. It matters little to that bold spirit 
whose motto was, " The die is cast : I have dared it V 
The whole island is his monument, if he need one. 

I spent the whole of the morning with Freiligrath, the 
poet, who was lately banished from Germany on account 
of the liberal principles his last volume contains. He lives 
in a pleasant country-house on the Meyerberg, an eminence 
near Rapperschwyl overlooking a glorious prospect. On 
leaving Frankfort, R. S. Willis gave me a letter to him, 
and I was glad to meet with a man personally whom I ad- 
mired so much through his writings, and whose boldness in 
speaking out against the tyranny which his country suffers 
forms such a noble contrast to the cautious slowness of his 
countrymen. He received me kindly and conversed much 
upon American literature. He is a warm admirer of Bry- 
ant and Longfellow, and has translated many of their poems 
into German. He said he had received a warm invitation 
from a colony of Germans in Wisconsin to join them and 
enjoy that freedom which his native land denies, but that 
his circumstances would not allow it at present. He is per- 
haps thirty-five years of age. His brow is high and noble, 
and his eyes, which are large and of a clear gray, beam 
with serious, saddened thought. His long chestnut hair, 



254 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

uniting with a handsome beard and moustache, gives a lion- 
like dignity to his energetic countenance. His talented 
wife, Ida Freiligrath, who shares his literary labors, and an 
amiable sister, are with him in exile, and he is happier in 
their faithfulness than when he enjoyed the favors of a cor- 
rupt king. 

We crossed the long bridge from Rapperschwyl and took 
the road over the mountain opposite, ascending for nearly 
two hours along the side, with glorious views of the Lake 
of Zurich and the mountains which enclose it. The upper 
and lower ends of the lake were completely hid by the 
storms which, to our regret, veiled the Alps, but the part 
below lay spread out dim and grand, like a vast picture. It 
rained almost constantly, and we were obliged occasionally 
to take shelter in the pine-forests whenever a heavier cloud 
passed over. The road was lined with beggars, who drop- 
ped on their knees in the rain before us or placed bars 
across the way and then took them down again, for which 
they demanded money. 

At length we reached the top of the pass. Many pil- 
grims to Einsiedeln had stopped at a little inn there, some 
of whom came a long distance to pay their vows, especially 
as the next day was the ascension day of the Virgin, whose 
image there is noted for performing many miracles. Pass- 
ing on, we crossed a wild torrent by an arch called the 
" Devil's Bridge." The lofty, elevated plains were covered 
with scanty patches of grain and potatoes and the boys 
tended their goats on the grassy slopes, sometimes trilling 
or yodling an Alpine melody. An hour's walk brought us 
to Einsiedeln, a small town whose only attraction is the 
abbey — after Loretto, in Italy, the most celebrated resort 
for pilgrims in Europe. 

We entered immediately into the great church. The 
gorgeous vaulted roof and long aisles were dim with the 
early evening ; hundreds of worshippers sat around the 
sides or kneeled in groups on the broad stone pavements 



THE ABBEY OF EINSIEDELN. 255 

chanting over their Paternosters and Ave Marias in a 
shrill, monotonous tone, while the holy image near the en- 
trance was surrounded by persons many of whom came in 
the hope of being healed of some disorder under which 
they suffered. I could not distinctly make out the image, 
for it was placed back within the grating, and a strong 
crimson lamp behind it was made to throw the light around 
in the form of a glory. Many of the pilgrims came a long 
distance. I saw some in the costume of the Black Forest 
and others who appeared to be natives of the Italian can- 
tons, and a group of young women, wearing conical fur 
caps, from the forests of Bregenz, on the Lake of Constance. 

I was astonished at the splendor of this church situated 
in a lonely and unproductive Alpine valley. The lofty 
arches of the ceiling, which are covered with superb fresco- 
paintings, rest on enormous pillars of granite, and every 
image and shrine is richly ornamented with gold. Some 
of the chapels were filled with the remains of martyrs, and 
these were always surrounded with throngs of believers. 
The choir was closed by a tall iron grating ; a single lamp 
which swung from the roof enabled me to see through the 
darkness that, though much more rich in ornaments than 
the body of the church, it was less grand and impressive. 
The frescos which cover the ceiling are said to be the finest 
paintings of the kind in Switzerland. 

In the morning our starting was delayed by the rain, and 
we took advantage of it to hear mass in the abbey and en- 
joy the heavenly music. The latter was of the loftiest 
kind. There was one voice among the singers I shall not 
soon forget ; it was like the warble of a bird who sings out 
of very wantonness. On and on it sounded, making its 
clear, radiant sweetness heard above the chant of the choir 
and the thunder of the orchestra. Such a rich, varied and 
untiring strain of melody I have rarely listened to. 

When the service ceased, we took a small road leading to 
Schwytz. We had now fairly entered the Alpine region, 



256 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

and our first task was to cross a mountain. This having 
been done, we kept along the back of the ridge which 
bounds the Lake of Zug on the south, terminating in the 
well-known Eossberg. The scenery became wilder with 
every step. The luxuriant fields of herbage on the moun- 
tains were spotted with the picturesque chalets of the hunt- 
ers and alp-herds ; cattle and goats were browsing along the 
declivities, their bells tinkling most musically, and the lit- 
tle streams fell in foam down the steeps. We here began to 
realize our anticipations of Swiss scenery. Just on the other 
side of the range along which we travelled lay the little 
Lake of Egeri and valley of Morgarten, where Tell and 
his followers overcame the army of the German emperor. 
Near the Lake of Lowertz we found a chapel by the road- 
side built on the spot where the house of Werner StaufF- 
acher, one of the " three men of Griitli," formerly stood. 
It bears a poetical inscription in old German and a rude 
painting of the battle of Morgarten. 

As we wound around the Lake of Lowertz we saw the 
valley lying between the Rossberg and the Righi, which 
latter mountain stood full in view. To our regret, and that 
of all other travellers, the clouds hung low upon it, as they 
had done for a week at least, and there was no prospect of 
a change. The Rossberg, from which we descended, is 
about four thousand feet in height ; a dark brown stripe 
from its very summit to the valley below shows the track 
of the avalanche which in 1806 overwhelmed Goldau and 
laid waste the beautiful vale of Lowertz. We could trace 
the masses of rock and earth as far as the foot of the Righi. 
Four hundred and fifty persons perished by this catastro- 
phe, which was so sudden that in five minutes the whole 
lovely valley was transformed into a desolate wilderness. 
The shock was so great that the Lake of Lowertz over- 
flowed its banks, and part of the village of Steinen, at the 
upper end, was destroyed by the waters. 

An hour's walk through a blooming Alpine vale brought 



GEUTLI MEADOW. 257 

us to the little town of Schwytz, the capital of the canton. 
It stands at the foot of a rock-mountain in shape not unlike 
Gibraltar, but double its height. The bare and rugged 
summits seem to hang directly over the town, but the peo- 
ple dwell below without fear, although the warning ruins of 
Goldau are full in sight. A narrow blue line at the end of 
the valley, which stretches westward, marks the Lake of the 
Four Cantons. Down this valley we hurried, that we might 
not miss the boat which plies daily from Luzerne to Fluelen. 
I regretted not being able to visit Luzerne, as I had a letter 
to the distinguished Swiss composer Schnyder von Warten- 
see, who resides there at present. The place is said to pre- 
sent a most desolate appearance, being avoided by travellers, 
and even by artisans ; so that business of all kinds has al- 
most entirely ceased. 

At the little town of Brannen, on the lake, we awaited 
the coming of the steamboat. The scenery around it is ex- 
ceedingly grand. Looking down toward Luzerne, we could 
see the dark mass of Mount Pilatus on one side, and on the 
other the graceful outline of the Righi, still wearing his 
hood of clouds. We put off in a skiff to meet the boat, 
with two Capuchin friars in long brown mantles and cowls, 
carrying rosaries at their girdles. 

Nearly opposite Brunnen is the meadow of Griitli, where 
the union of the Swiss patriots took place and the bond was 
sealed that enabled them to cast off their chains. It is a 
little green slope on the side of the mountain, between the 
two cantons of Uri and Unterwalden, surrounded Qn all 
sides by precipices. A little crystal spring in the centre is 
believed by the common people to have gushed up o,^ the 
spot where the three " linked the hands that made them 
free." It is al^o a popular belief that they slumber in a 
rocky cavern near the spot, and that they will arise and 
come forth when the liberties of Switzerland are in danger. 
She stands at present greatly in, need of a new triad to J*©- 
store the ancient harmony. '•"- 

17 



258 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

We passed this glorious scene, almost the only green spot 
on the bleak mountain-side, and swept around the base of 
the Axenberg, at whose foot, in a rocky cave, stands the 
chapel of William Tell. This is built on the spot where he 
leaped from Gessler's boat during the storm. It sits at the 
base of the rock, on the water's edge, and can be seen far 
over the waves. The Alps, whose eternal snows are lifted 
dazzling to the sky, complete the grandeur of a scene so 
hallowed by the footsteps of Freedom. The grand and 
lonely solemnity of the landscape impressed me with an awe 
like that one feels when standing in a mighty cathedral 
when the aisles are dim with twilight. And how full of 
interest to a citizen of young and free America is a shrine 
where the votaries of Liberty have turned to gather strength 
and courage through the storms and convulsions of five 
hundred years! 

We stopped at the village of Fluelen, at the head of the 
lake, and walked on to Altorf, a distance of half a league. 
Here, in the market-place, is a tower said to be built on the 
spot where the linden tree stood under which the child of 
Tell was placed, while, about a hundred yards distant, is 
a fountain with Tell's statue, on the spot from whence he 
shot the apple. If these localities are correct, he must in- 
deed have been master of the cross-bow. The tower is cov- 
ered with rude paintings of the principal events in the his- 
tory of Swiss liberty. I viewed these scenes with double 
interest from having read Schiller's Wilhelm Tell, one of the 
most splendid tragedies ever written. The beautiful reply 
of his boy when he described to him the condition of the 
" land where there are no mountains " was sounding in my 
ears during the whole day's journey : 

"Father, I'd feel oppressed in that broad land: 
I'd rather dwell beneath the avalanche !" 

The little village of Burglen, whose spire we sjaw above 
the forest in a glen near by was the birthplace of Tell, and 



ALPINE TWILIOHT. 259 

the place where his dwelling stood is now marked by a small 
chapel. In the Schachen, a noisy mountain-stream that 
comes down to join the Reuss, he was drowned when an old 
man, in attempting to rescue a child who had fallen in — a 
death worthy of the hero. We bestowed a blessing on his 
memory in passing, and then followed the banks of the rapid 
Reuss. Twilight was gathering in the deep Alpine glen, 
and the mountains on each side, half seen through the mist, 
looked like vast awful phantoms ; soon they darkened to 
black, indistinct masses. All was silent except the deep- 
ened roar of the falling floods ; dark clouds brooded above 
us like the outspread wings of night, and we were glad when 
the little village of Amstegg was reached and the parlor of 
the inn opened to us a more cheerful, if not so romantic, 
scene. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

PASSAGE OF THE ST. GOTHARD AND DESCENT INTO ITALY. 

Leaving Amstegg, I passed the whole day among snowy, 
sky-piercing Alps, torrents, chasms and clouds. The clouds 
appeared to be breaking up as we set out, and the white top 
of the Reussberg was now and then visible in the sky. Just 
above the village are the remains of Zwing Uri, the castle 
begun by the tyrant Gessler for the complete subjugation 
of the canton. Following the Reuss up through a narrow 
valley, we passed the Bristenstock, which lifts its jagged 
crags nine thousand feet in the air, while on the other side 
stand the snowy summits which lean toward the Rhone gla- 
cier and St. Gothard. From the deep glen where the Reuss 
foamed down toward the Lake of the Forest Cantons the 
mountains rose with a majestic sweep so far into the sky 
that the brain grew almost dizzy in following their outlines. 
Woods, chalets and slopes of herbage covered their bases, 



260 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

where the mountain-cattle and goats were browsing, while 
the herd-boys sang their native melodies or woke the ring- 
ing echoes with the loud, sweet sounds of their wooden 
horns. Higher up the sides were broken into crags and 
covered with stunted pines ; then succeeded a belt of bare 
rock with a little snow lying in the crevices, and the sum- 
mits of dazzling white looked out from the clouds nearly 
three-fourths the height of the zenith. Sometimes, v/hen 
the vale was filled with clouds, it was startling to see them 
parting around a solitary summit apparently isolated in the 
air at an immense height, for the mountain to which it be- 
longed was hidden to the very base. 

The road passed from one side of the valley to the other, 
crossing the Reuss on bridges sometimes ninety feet high. 
After three or four hours' walking, we reached a frightful 
pass called the Schollenen. So narrow is the defile that 
before reaching it the road seemed to enter directly into the 
mountain. Precipices a thousand feet high tower above, and 
the stream roars and boils in the black depth below. The 
road is a wonder of art ; it winds around the edge of hor- 
rible chasms or is carried on lofty arches across, with some- 
times a hold apparently so frail that one involuntarily shud- 
ders. At a place called the Devil's Bridge the Reuss leaps 
about seventy feet in three or four cascades, sending up con- 
tinually a cloud of spray, while a wind created by the fall 
blows and whirls around with a force that nearly lifts one 
from his feet. Wordsworth has described the scene in the 
following lines : 

"Plunge with the Eeuss, embrowned by Terror's breath, 
Where Danger roofs the narrow walks of Death, 
By floods that, thundering from their dizzy height, 
Swell more gigantic on the steadfast sight — 
Black, drizzling crags that, beaten by the din. 
Vibrate, as if a voice complained within, 
Loose-hanging rocks the Day's blessed eye that hide, 
And crosses reared to Death on every side." 



ST. GOTHAKD. 261 

Beyond the Devil's Bridge the mountains which nearly- 
touched before interlock into each other, and a tunnel three 
hundred and seventy-five feet long leads through the rock 
into the vale of Urseren, surrounded by the Upper Alps. 
The little town of Andermatt lies in the middle of this val- 
ley, which, with the peaks around, is covered with short 
yellowish-brown grass. We met near Amstegg a little 
Italian boy walking home from Germany, quite alone and 
without money, for we saw him give his last kreutzer to a 
blind beggar along the road. We therefore took him with 
us, as he was afraid to cross the St. Gothard alone. 

After refreshing ourselves at Andermatt, we started, five 
in number, including a German student, for the St. Gothard. 
Behind the village of Hospiz, which stands at the bottom 
of the valley leading to Kealp and the Furca Pass, the way 
commences, winding backward and forward, higher and 
higher, through a valley covered with rocks, with the 
mighty summits of the Alps around, untenanted save by 
the chamois and mountain-eagle. Not a tree was to be seen. 
The sides of the mountains were covered with loose rocks 
waiting for the next torrent to wash them down, and the 
tops were robed in eternal snow. A thick cloud rolled 
down over us as we went on, following the diminishing brooks 
to their snowy source in the Peak of St. Gothard. We cut 
off" the bends of the road by footpaths up the rocks, which 
we ascended in single file, one of the Americans going ahead 
and the little Pietro with his staff and bundle bringing up 
the rear. The rarefied air we breathed seven thousand feet 
above the sea was like exhilarating gas. We felt no fatigue, 
but ran and shouted and threw snow-balls in the middle of 
August. 

After three hours' walk we reached the two clear and 
silent lakes which send their waters to the Adriatic and the 
North Sea. Here, as we looked down the Italian side, the 
sky became clear ; we saw the top of St. Gothard many 
thousand feet above, and, stretching to the south, the sum- 



262 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

mits of the mountains which guard the vales of the Ticino 
and the Adda. The former monastery has been turned 
into an inn ; there is, however, a kind of church attached, 
attended by a single monk. It was so cold that, although 
late, we determined to descend to the first village. The 
Italian side is very steep, and the road — called the Via 
Trimola — is like a thread dropped down and constantly 
doubling back upon itself. The deep chasms were filled 
with snow, although exposed to the full force of the sun, 
and for a long distance there was scarcely a sign of vege- 
tation. 

We thought, as we went down, that every step was bring- 
ing us nearer to a sunnier land — that the glories of Italy, 
which had so long lain in the airy background of the fu- 
ture, would soon spread themselves before us in their real 
or imagined beauty. Reaching at dusk the last height 
above the vale of the Ticino, we saw the little village of 
Airolo, with its musical name, lying in a hollow of the 
mountains. A few minutes of leaping, sliding and rolling 
took us down the grassy declivity, and we found we had 
descended from the top in an hour and a half, although the 
distance by the road is nine miles. I need not say how 
glad we were to relieve our trembling knees and exhausted 
limbs. 

I have endeavored several times to give some idea of the 
sublimity of the Alps, but words seem almost pow^erless to 
measure these mighty mountains. No effort of the imagi- 
nation could possibly equal their real grandeur. I wish 
also to describe the feelings inspired by being among them 
— feelings which can best be expressed through the warmer 
medium of poetry. 



SONG OF THE ALP. 263 



SONG OF THE ALP. 

I. 

I sit aloft on my thunder-throne, 

And my voice of dread the nations own 

As I speak in storm below. 
The valleys quake with a breathless fear 
When I hurl in wrath my icy spear 

And shake my locks of snow. 
When the avalanche forth like a tiger leaps, 

How the vassal-mountains quiver, 
And the storm that sweeps through the airy deeps 

Makes the hoary pine-wood shiver ! 
Above them all, in a brighter air, 
I lift my forehead proud and bare, 
And the lengthened sweep of my forest-robe 
Trails down to the low and captured globe, 
Till its borders touch the dark-green wave 
In whose soundless depths my feet I lave. 
The winds, unprisoned, around me blow. 
And terrible tempests whirl the snow ; 
Bocks from their caverned beds are torn, 
And the blasted forest to heaven is borne ; 
High through the din of the stormy band 
Like misty giants the mountains stand, 
And their thunder-revel o'ersounds the woe 
That cries from the desolate vales below ; 
I part the clouds with my lifted crown 
Till the sun-ray slants on the glaciers down, 
And trembling men, in the valleys pale, 
Bejoice at the gleam of my icy mail. 

IL 
I wear a crown of the sunbeam's gold, 
With glacier-gems on my forehead old — 

A monarch crowned by God. 
What son of the servile earth may dare 
Such signs of a regal power to wear 

While chained to her darkened sod? 
I know of a nobler and grander lore 

Than Time records on his crumbling pages, 



264 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

And the soul of my solitude teaches more 

Than the gathered deeds of perislied ages ; 
For I have ruled since Time began 
And wear no fetter made by man. 
I scorn the coward and craven race 
Who dwell around my mighty base, 
For they leave the lessons I grandly gave 
And bend to the yoke of the crouching slave; 
I shout aloud to the chainless skies ; 
The stream through its falling foam replies — 
And my voice, like the sound of the surging sea, 
To the nations thunders — " I am free I" 
I spoke to Tell when a tyrant's hand 
Lay heavy and hard on his native land. 
And the spirit whose glory from mine he won 
Blessed the Alpine dwellers with Freedom's sun I 
The Student-Boy on the Gmunden-plain 
Heard my solemn voice, but he fought in vain ; 
I called from the crags of the Passeir Glen 
When the despot stood in my realm again, 
And Hofer sprang at the proud command 
And roused the men of the Tyrol land. 

III. 
I struggle up to the dim blue heaven 
From the world far down in whose breast are driven 

The props of my pillared throne ; 
And the rosy fires of morning glow 
Like a glorious thought on my brow of snow, 

While the vales are dark and lone ! 
Ere twilight summons the first faint star 
I seem to the nations who dwell afar 
Like a shadowy cloud whose every fold 
The sunset dyes with its purest gold. 
And the soul moimts up through that gateway fair 
To try its wings in a loftier air. 
The finger of God on my brow is jiressed, 
His spirit beats in my giant breast, 
And I breathe, as the endless ages roll, 
His silent words to the eager soul. 
I prompt the thoughts of the mighty mind 
Who leaves his century far behind 



BEAUTIFUL CASCADES. 265 

And speaks from the Future's sunlit snow 

To the Present, that sleeps in its gloom below. 

I stand unchanged in creation's youtli, 

A glorious type of eternal truth, 

That, free and pure, from its native skies 

Shines through Oppression's veil of lies, 

And lights the world's long-fettered sod 

With thoughts of Freedom and of God. 

When, at night, I looked out of my chamber-window, the 
silver moon of Italy (for we fancied that her light was 
softer and that the skies were already bluer) hung trem- 
bling above the fields of snow that stretched in their wintry 
brilliance along the mountains around. I heard the roar 
of the Ticino and the deepened sound of falling cascades, 
and thought, if I were to take those waters for my guide, to 
what glorious places they would lead me. 

We left Airolo early the next morning, to continue our 
journey down the valley of the Ticino. The mists and 
clouds of Switzerland were exchanged for a sky of the 
purest blue, and we felt, for the first time in ten days, un- 
comfortably warm. The mountains which flank the Alps 
on this side are still giants — lofty and bare, and covered 
with snow in many places. The limit of the German dialect 
is on the summit of St. Gothard, and the peasants saluted 
us with a "Buon giorno /" as they passed. This, with the 
clearness of the skies and the warmth of the air, made us 
feel that Italy was growing nearer. 

The mountains are covered with forests of dark pine, and 
many beautiful cascades come tumbling over the rocks in 
their haste to join the Ticino. One of these was so strangely 
beautiful that I cannot pass it without a particular descrip- 
tion. We saw it soon after leaving Airolo on the opposite 
side of the valley. A stream of considerable size comes 
down the mountain, leaping from crag to crag till within 
forty or fifty feet of the bottom, where it is caught in a hol- 
low rock and flung upward into the air, forming a beautiful 



266 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

arch as it falls out into the valley. As it is whirled up thus 
feathery curls of spray are constantly driven off and seem 
to wave round it like the fibres of an ostrich-plume. The 
sun, shining through, gave it a sparry brilliance which was 
perfectly magnificent. If I were an artist, I would give 
much for such a new form of beauty. 

On our first day's journey we passed through two terrific 
mountain-gorges, almost equalling in grandeur the defile of 
the Devil's Bridge. The Ticino, in its course to Lago Mag- 
giore, has to make a descent of nearly three thousand feet, 
passing through three valleys, which lie like terraces, one 
below the other. In its course from one to the other it has 
to force its way down in twenty cataracts through a cleft in 
the mountains. The road, constructed with the utmost 
labor, threads these dark chasms, sometimes carried in a 
tunnel through the rock, sometimes passing on arches above 
the boiling flood. The precipices of bare rock rise far 
above and render the way difficult and dangerous. I here 
noticed another very beautiful effect of the water, perhaps 
attributable to some mineral substance it contained. The 
spray and foam thrown up in the dashing of the vexed cur- 
rent was of a light, delicate pink, although the stream itself 
was a soft blue, and the contrast of these two colors was 
very remarkable. 

As we kept on, however, there was a very perceptible 
change in the scenery. The gloomy pines disappeared, and 
the mountains were covered, in their stead, with picturesque 
chestnut trees with leaves of a shining green. The grass 
and vegetation was much more luxuriant than on the other 
side of the Alps, and fields of maize and mulberry orchards 
covered the valley. We saw the people busy at work reel- 
ing silk in the villages. Every mile we advanced made a 
sensible change in the vegetation. The chestnuts were 
larger, the maize higher, the few straggling grape-vines in- 
creased into bowers and vineyards, while the gardens were 
filled with plum, pear and fig trees, and the stands of deli- 



BOWEKS OF AECADIA. 267 

cious fruit which we saw in the villages gave us promise of 
the luxuriance that was to come. 

The vineyards are much more beautiful than the German 
fields of stakes. The vines are not trimmed, but grow from 
year to year over a frame higher than the head, sup- 
ported through the whole field on stone pillars. They in- 
terlace and form a complete leafy screen, while the clusters 
hang below. The light came dimly through the green, 
transparent leaves, and nothing was wanting to make them 
real bowers of Arcadia. Although we were still in Switz- 
erland, the people began to have that lazy, indolent look 
which characterizes the Italians ; most of the occupations 
were carried on in the open air, and brown-robed, sandalled 
friars were going about from house to house, collecting 
money and provisions for their support. 

We passed Faido and Giornico, near which last village 
are the remains of an old castle supposed to have been built 
by the ancient Gauls, and stopped for the night at Cresci- 
ano ; which being entirely Italian, we had an opportumity 
to put in practice the few words we had picked up from 
Pietro. The little fellow parted from us mth regret a few 
hours before, at Biasco, where he had relations. The rustic 
landlord at Cresciano was an honest young fellow who tried 
to serve us as well as he could, but we made some ludicrous 
mistakes through our ignorance of the language. 

Three hours' walk brought us to Bellinzona, the capital 
of the canton. Before reaching it our road joined that of 
the Spliigen, which comes down through the valley of Ber- 
nardino. From the bridge where the junction takes place 
we had a triple view whose grandeur took me by surprise 
even after coming from Switzerland. We stood at the 
union of three valleys — that leading to St. Gothard, termi- 
nated by the glaciers of the Bernese Oberland, that run- 
ning off obliquely to the Spliigen, and finally the broad 
vale of the Ticino, extending to Lago Maggiore, whose pur- 
ple mountains closed the vista. Each valley was perhaps 



268 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

two miles broad and from twenty to thirty long, and the 
mountains that enclosed them from five to seven thousand 
feet in height ; so you may perhaps form some idea what a 
view down three such avenues in this Alpine temple would 
be. Bellinzona is romantically situated on a slight emi- 
nence, with three castles to defend it, with those square tur- 
reted towers and battlements which remind one involun- 
tarily of the days of the Goths and Vandals. 

We left Bellinzona at noon, and saw, soon after, from an 
eminence, the blue line of Lago Maggiore stretched across 
the bottom of the valley. We saw sunset fade away over the 
lake, but it was clouded and did not realize my ideal of such 
a scene in Italy. A band of wild Italians paraded up and 
down the village, drawing one of their number in a hand- 
cart. They made a great noise with a drum and trumpet, and 
were received everywhere with shouts of laughter. A great 
jug of wine was not wanting, and the whole seemed to me a 
very characteristic scene. 

We were early awakened at Magadino, at the head of 
Lago Maggiore, and after swallowing a hasty breakfast went 
on board the steamboat San Carlo for Sesto Calende. We 
got under way at six o'clock, and were soon in motion over 
the crystal mirror. The water is of the most lovely green 
hue, and so transparent that we seemed to be floating in 
mid-air. Another heaven arched far below us ; other chains 
of mountains joined their bases to those which surrounded 
the lake, and the mirrored cascades leaped upward to meet 
their originals at the surface. It may be because I have 
seen it more recently that the water of Lago Maggiore ap- 
pears to be the most beautiful in the world. I was delight- 
ed with the Scotch lakes and enraptured with the Traunsee 
and " Zurich's waters," but this last exceeds them both. I 
am now incapable of any stronger feeling until I see the 
Egean from the Grecian isles. 

The morning was cloudy, and the white wreaths hung low 
on the mountains, whose rocky sides were covered every- 



THE BORKOMEAN ISLANDS. 269 

where with the rank and luxuriant growth of this climate. 
As we advanced farther over this glorious mirror the houses 
became more Italian-like ; the lower stories rested on arch- 
ed passages, and the windows were open, without glass, 
while in the gardens stood the solemn, graceful cypress, and 
vines heavy with ripening grapes hung from bough to bough 
through the mulberry orchards. Halfway down, in a broad 
bay which receives the waters of a stream that comes down 
with the Simplon, are the celebrated Borromean Islands. 
They are four in number, and seem to float like fairy-crea- 
tions on the water, while the lofty hills form a background 
whose grandeur enhances by contrast their exquisite beauty. 
There was something in the scene that reminded me of 
Claude Melnotte's description of his home by Bulwer, and, 
like the Lady of Lyons, I answer readily, "I like the 
picture." 

On passing by Isola Madre we could see the roses in its 
terraced gardens and the broad-leaved aloes clinging to the 
rocks. Isola Bella, the loveliest of them all, as its name 
denotes, was farther ofi"; it rose like a pyramid from the 
water, terrace above terrace to the summit, and its gardens 
of never-fading foliage, with the glorious panorama around, 
might make it a paradise if life were to be dreamed away. 
On the northern side of the bay lies a larg© town (I forget 
its name) with a lofty Romanesque tower, and noble moun- 
tains sweep around as if to shut out the world from such a 
scene. The sea was perfectly calm, and groves and gardens 
slept mirrored in the dark green wave, while the Alps rose 
afar through the dim, cloudy air. Toward the other end 
the hills sink lower and slope off into the plains of Lom- 
bardy. Near Arona, on the western side, is a large monas- 
tery, overlooking the lower part of the lake. Beside it, on 
a hill, is a colossal statue of San Carlo Borromeo, who gave 
his name to the lovely islands above. 

After a seven hours' passage we ran into Sesto Calende, 
at the foot of the lakq. Here passengers and baggage were 



270 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

tumbled promiscuously on shore, the latter gathered into 
the office to be examined, and the former left at liberty to 
ramble about an hour until their passports could be signed. 
We employed the time in trying the flavor of the grapes 
and peaches of Lombardy and looking at the groups of 
travellers who had come down from the Alps with the an- 
nual avalanche at this season. The custom-house officers 
were extremely civil and obliging, as they did not think 
necessary to examine our knapsacks, and, our passports be- 
ing soon signed, we were at liberty to enter again into the 
dominions of His Majesty of Austria. Our companion the 
German, whose feet could carry him no farther, took a seat 
on the top of a diligence for Milan ; we left Sesto Calende 
on foot, and plunged into the cloud of dust which was 
whirling toward the capital of Northern Italy. 

Being now really in the " sunny land," we looked on the- 
scenery with a deep interest. The first thing that struck 
me was a resemblance to America in the fields of Indian 
corn and the rank growth of weeds by the roadside. The 
mulberry trees and hedges, too, looked quite familiar, com- 
ing, as we did, from fenceless and hedgeless Germany. Bnt 
here the resemblance ceased. The people were coarse, ig- 
norant and savage-looking, the villages remarkable for 
nothing except the contrast between splendid churches and 
miserable, dirty houses, while the luxurious palaces and 
grounds of the rich noblemen formed a still greater contrast 
to the poverty of the people. I noticed also that if the 
latter are as lazy as they are said to be, they make their 
horses work for them, as in a walk of a few hours yesterday 
afternoon we saw two horses drawing heavy loads drop 
down, apparently dead, and several others seemed nearly 
ready to do the same. 

We spent the night at the little village of Casina, about 
sixteen miles from Milan, and here made our first experi- 
ence in the honesty of Italian inns. We had taken the 
precaution to inquire beforehand the price of a bed, but it 



AN EXTOETIONATE HOST. 271 

seemed unnecessary and unpleasant, as well as evincing a 
mistrustful spirit, to do the same with every article we asked 
for ; so we concluded to leave it to the host's conscience not 
to overcharge us. Imagine our astonishment, however, 
when, at starting, a bill was presented to us in which the 
smallest articles were set down at three or four times their 
value. We remonstrated, but to little purpose. The fel- 
low knew scarcely any French, and we as little Italian ; so, 
rather than lose time or temper, we paid what he demanded 
and went on, leaving him to laugh at the successful impo- 
sition. The experience was of value to us, however, and it 
may serve as a warning to some future traveller. 

About noon the road turned into a broad and beautiful 
avenue of poplars, down which we saw at a distance the 
triumphal arch terminating the Simplon road, which we 
had followed from Sesto Calende. Beyond it rose the slight 
and airy pinnacle of the Duomo. We passed by the ex- 
quisite structure, gave up our passports at the gates, trav- 
ersed the broad Piazzi d'Armi, and found ourselves at lib- 
erty to choose one of the dozen streets that led into the heart 
of the city. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

MILAN. 

Attg. 21. 

While finding our way at random to the "Pension 
Suisse," whither we had been directed by a German gentle- 
man, we were agreeably impressed with the gayety and 
bustle of Milan. The shops and stores are all open to the 
street ; so that the city resembles a great bazaar. It has 
an odd look to see blacksmiths, tailors and shoemakers 
working unconcernedly in the open air with crowds con- 



272 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

tinually passing before them. The streets are filled with 
venders of fruit, who call out the names with a long dis- 
tressing cry like that of a person in great agony. Organ- 
grinders parade constantly about, and snatches of songs are 
heard among the gay crowd on every side. 

In this lively, noisy Italian city nearly alj there is to see 
may be comprised in four things — the Duomo, the triumphal 
arch over the Simplon, La Scala and the picture-gallery. 
The first alone is more interesting than many an entire city. 
We went there yesterday afternoon soon after reaching here. 
It stands in an irregular open place closely hemmed in by 
houses on two sides ; so that it can be seen to advantage 
from only one point. It is a mixture of the Gothic and Ro- 
manesque styles. The body of the structure is entirely cov- 
ered with statues and richly-wrought sculpture, with needle- 
like spires of white marble rising up from every corner. 
But of the exquisite, airy look of the whole mass, although 
so solid and vast, it is impossible to convey an idea. It ap- 
pears like some fabric of frost-work which Winter traces on 
the window-panes. There is a unity of beauty about the 
whole which the eye takes in with a feeling of perfect and 
satisfied delight. 

Ascending the marble steps which lead to the front, I 
lifted the folds of the heavy curtain and entered. What a 
glorious aisle ! The mighty pillars support a magnificent 
arched ceiling painted to resemble fretwork, and the little 
light that falls through the small windows above enters 
tinged with a dim golden hue. A feeling of solemn awe 
comes over one as he steps with a hushed tread along the 
colored marble floor and measures the massive columns till 
they blend with the gorgeous arches above. There are four 
rows of these — nearly fifty in all — and when I state that 
they are eight feet in diameter and sixty or seventy in 
height, some idea may be formed of the grandeur of the 
building. Imagine the Girard College, at Philadelphia, 
turned into one great hall with four rows of pillars equal 



THE DUOMO OF MILAK 273 

in size to those around it, reaching to its roof, and you will 
have a rough sketch of the interior of the Duomo. 

In the ceiitre of the cross is a light and beautiful dome. 
He who will stand under this and look down the broad 
middle aisle to tlie entrance has one of the sublimest vistas 
to be found in the world. The choir has three enormous 
windows coveredllvith dazzling paintings, and the ceiling is 
of marble and silver. There are gratings under the high 
altar by looking into which I could see a dark, lonely cham- 
ber below where one or two feeble lamps showed a circle of 
praying-places. It was probably a funeral-vault which per- 
sons visited to pray for the repose of their friends' souls. 
The Duomo is not yet entirely finished, the workmen being 
still employed in various parts, but it is said that when 
completed there will be four thousand statues on the difier- 
ent parts of it. 

The design of the Duomo is said to be taken from Monte 
Rosa, one of the loftiest peaks of the Alps. Its hundreds 
of sculptured pinnacles, rising from every part of the body 
of the church, certainly bear a striking resemblance to the 
splintered ice-crags of Savoy. Thus we see how Art, mighty 
and endless in her forms though she be, is in everything 
but the child of Nature. Her most divine conceptions are 
but copies of objects which we behold every day. The 
faultless beauty of the Corinthian capital, the springing and 
intermingling arches of the Gothic aisle, the pillared portico 
or the massive and sky-piercing pyramid, are but attempts 
at reproducing by the studied regularity of Art the ever- 
varied and ever-beautiful forms of mountain, rock and for- 
est. But there is oftentimes a more thrilling sensation of 
enjoyment produced by the creations of man's hand and 
intellect than the grander effects of Nature existing con- 
stantly before our eyes. It would seem as if man marvelled 
more at his own work than at the work of the Power which 
created him. 

The streets of Milan abound with priests in their cocked 

18 



274 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

hats and long black robes. They all have the same solemn 
air, and seem to go about like beings shut out from all com- 
munion with pleasure. No sight lately has saddened me 
so much as to see a bright, beautiful boy of twelve or thir- 
teen years in those gloomy garments. Poor child ! He 
little knows now what he may have to endure — a lonely, 
cheerless life where every afiection must •e crushed as un- 
holy and every pleasure denied as a crime. And I knew 
by his fair brow and tender lip that he had a warm and 
loving heart. I could not help regarding this class as vic- 
tims to a mistaken idea of religious duty ; and if I am not 
mistaken, I read on more than one countenance the traces 
of passions that burned within. It is mournful to see a 
23eople oppressed in the name of religion. The holiest as- 
pirations of man's nature, instead of lifting him up to a 
nearer view of Christian perfection, are changed into clouds 
and shut oat the light of heaven. Immense treasures 
wrung drop by drop from the credulity of the poor and 
ignorant are made use of to pamper the luxury of those 
who profess to be mediators between man and the Deity. 
The poor wretch may perish of starvation on a floor of pre- 
cious mosaic which perhaps his own pittance has helped to 
form, while ceilings and shrines of inlaid gold mock his dy- 
ing eye with their useless splendor. Such a system of op- 
pression, disguised under the holiest name, can only be sus- 
tained by the continuance of ignorance and blind supersti- 
tion. Knowledge, truth, reason, — these are the ralnparts 
which Liberty throws up to guard her dominions from the 
usurpations of oppression and wrong. 

We were last night in La Scala. Rossini's opera of Wil- 
liam Tell was advertised, and, as we had visited so lately 
the scene where that glorious historical drama was enacted, 
we went to see it represented in sound. It is a grand sub- 
ject which in the hands of a powerful composer might be 
made very effective, but I must confess I was disappointed 
in the present case. The overture is, however, very beau- 



LA SCALA. 275 

tiful. It begins low and mournful, like the lament of the 
Swiss over their fallen liberties. Occasionally a low drum 
is heard, as if to rouse them to action, and meanwhile the 
lament swells to a cry of despair. The drums now wake 
the land ; the horn of Uri is heard pealing forth its sum- 
moning strain, and the echoes seem to come back from the 
distant Alps. The sound then changes for the roar of bat- 
tle — the clang of trumpets, drums and cymbals. The 
whole orchestra did their best to represent this combat in 
music, which after lasting a short time changed into the 
loud victorious march of the conquerors. But the body of 
the opera, although it had several fine passages, was to me 
devoid of interest — in fact, unworthy the reputation of 
Rossini. 

The theatre is perhaps the largest in the world. The 
singers are all good; in Italy it could not be otherwise, 
where everybody sings. As I write a party of Italians in 
the house opposite have been amusing themselves with 
going through the whole opera of La Fille du Regiment 
with the accompaniment of the piano, and they show the 
greatest readiness and correctness in their performance. 
They have now become somewhat boisterous, and appear 
to be improvising. One young gentleman executes trills 
with amazing skill, and another appears to have taken the 
part of a despairing lover ; but the lady has a very pretty 
voice, and warbles on and on like a nightingale. Occa- 
sionally a group of listeners in the street below clap them 
applause, for, as the windows are always open, the whole 
neighborhood can enjoy the performance. 

This forenoon I was in the picture-gallery. It occupies 
a part of the library -building, in the Palazzo Cabrera. It 
is not large, and many of the pictures are of no value to 
anybody but antiquarians ; still, there are some excellent 
paintings which render it well worthy a visit. Among 
these, a marriage by Raphael is still in a very good state 
of preservation, and there are some fine pictures by Paul 



276 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Veronese and the Caracci. The most admired painting ia 
"Abraham sending away Hagar," by Guercino. I never 
saw a more touching expression of grief than in the face 
of Hagar. Her eyes are red with weeping, and as she listens 
in an agony of tears to the patriarch's command she still 
seems doubting the reality of her doom. The countenance 
of Abraham is venerable and calm and expresses little 
emotion, but one can read in that of Sarah, as she turns 
away, a feeling of pity for her unfortunate rival. 

Next to the Duomo, the most beautiful specimen of archi- 
tecture in Milan is the arch of Peace, on the north side of 
the city, at the commencement of the Simplon road. It 
was the intention of Napoleon to carry the road under this 
arch across the Piazza d'Armi, and to cut a way for it di- 
rectly into the heart of the city, but the fall of his dynasty 
prevented the execution of this magnificent design, as well 
as the completion of the arch itself. This has been done 
by the Austrian government according to the original plan ; 
they have inscribed upon it the name of Francis I. and 
changed the bas-reliefs of Lodi and Marengo into those of 
a few fields where their forces had gained the victory. It 
is even said that in many parts which w^ere already fin- 
ished they altered the splendid Roman profile of Napoleon 
into the haggard and repulsive features of Francis of 
Austria. 

The bronze statues on the top were made by an artist of 
Bologna by Napoleon's order, and are said to be the finest 
works of modern times. In the centre is the goddess of 
Peace in a triumphal car drawn by six horses, while on the 
corners, four angels, mounted, are starting off to convey 
the tidings to the four quarters of the globe. The artist 
has caught the spirit of motion and chained it in these 
moveless figures. One would hardly feel surprised if the 
goddess, chariot, horses and all, were to start off and roll 
away through the air. 

With the rapidity usual to Americans, we have already 



A EELIC OF THE PAST. 277 

finished seeing Milan, and shall start to-morrow morning 
on a walk to Genoa. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

WALK FROM MILAN TO GENOA. 

It was finally decided we should leave Milan ; so the next 
morning we arose at five o'clock for the first time since leav- 
ing Frankfort. The Italians had commenced operations at 
this early hour, but we made our way through the streets 
without attracting quite so much attention as on our ar- 
rival. Near the gate on the road to Pavia we passed a long 
colonnade which was certainly as old as the times of the 
Eomans. The pillars of marble were quite brown with 
age, and bound together with iron to keep them from fall- 
ing to pieces. It was a striking contrast to see this relic 
of the past standing in the middle of a crowded thorough- 
fare and surrounded by all the brilliance and display of 
modern trade. 

Once fairly out of the city, we took the road to Pavia, 
along the banks of the canal, just as the rising sun gilded 
the marble spire of the Duomo. The country was a perfect 
level, and the canal, which was in many places higher than 
the land through which it passed, served also as a means 
of irrigation for the many rice-fields. The sky grew cloudy 
and dark, and before we reached Pavia gathered to a heavy 
storm. Torrents of rain poured down, accompanied with 
heavy thunder ; we crept under an old gateway for shelter, 
as no house was near. Finally, as it cleared away, the 
square brown towers of the old city rose above the trees, 
and we entered the gate through a fine shaded avenue. Our 
passports were, of course, demanded, but we were only de- 
tained a minute or two. The only thing of interest is the 



278 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

university, formerly so celebrated ; it has at present about 
eight hundred students. 

We have reason to remember the city from another cir- 
cumstance — the singular attention we excited. I doubt if 
Columbus was an object of greater curiosity to the simple 
natives of the New World than we three Americans were 
to the good people of Pavia. I know not what part of our 
dress or appearance could have caused it, but we were 
watched like wild animals. If we happened to pause and 
look at anything in the street, there was soon a crowd of 
attentive observers, and as we passed on every door and 
window was full of heads. We stopped in the market-place 
to purchase some bread and fruit for dinner, which in- 
creased, if possible, the sensation. We saw eyes staring 
and fingers pointing at us from every door and alley. I 
am generally willing to contribute as much as possible- to 
the amusement or entertainment of others, but such atten- 
tion was absolutely embarrassing. There was nothing to 
do but to appear unconscious of it, and we went along with 
as much nonchalance as if the whole town belonged to us. 

We crossed the Ticino, on whose banks, near Pavia, was 
fought the first great battle between Hannibal and the Ro- 
mans. On the other side our passports were demanded at 
the Sardinian frontier and our knapsacks searched ; which 
having proved satisfactory, we were allowed to enter the 
kingdom. Late in the afternoon we reached the Po, which 
in winter must be quarter of a mile wide, but the summer 
heats had dried it up to a small stream ; so that the bridge 
of boats rested nearly its whole length in sand. We sat on 
the bank in the shade and looked at the chain of hills 
which rose in the south, following the course of the Po, 
crowned with castles and villages and shining towers. It 
was here that I first began to realize Italian scenery. Al- 
though the hills were bare, they lay so warm and glowing 
in the sunshine, and the deep blue sky spread so calmly 



MAJESTIC SCENEKY. 279 

above, that it recalled all my dreams of the fair clime we 
had entered. 

We stopped for the night at the little village of Casteg- 
gio, which lies at the foot of the hills, and next morning 
resumed our pilgrimage. Here a new delight awaited us. 
The sky was of a heavenly blue, without even the shadow 
of a cloud, and full and fair in the morning sunshine we 
could see the whole range of the Alps, from the blue hills 
of Friuli, which sweep down to Venice and the Adriatic, 
to the lofty peaks which stretch away to Nice and Mar- 
seilles. Like a summer cloud, except that they were far 
more dazzling and glorious, lay to the north of us the gla- 
ciers and untrodden snow-fields of the Bernese Oberland ; 
a little to the right we saw the double peak of St. Gothard, 
where six days before we shivered in the region of eternal 
winter, while far to the north-west rose the giant dome of 
Mont Blanc. Monte Kosa stood near him, not far from the 
Great St. Bernard, and farther to the south Mont Cenis 
guarded the entrance from Piedmont into France. I leave 
you to conceive the majesty of such a scene, and you may 
perhaps imagine — for I cannot describe — the feelings with 
which I gazed upon it. 

At Tortona, the next post, a great market was being 
held ; the town was filled with country-people selling their 
produce, and with venders of wares of all kinds. Fruit 
was very abundant ; grapes, ripe figs, peaches and melons 
were abundant, and for a trifle one could purchase a sump- 
tuous banquet. On inquiring the road to Novi, the people 
made us understand, after much diflSculty, that there was a 
nearer way across the country which came into the post- 
road again, and we concluded to take it. After two or 
three hours' walking in a burning sun, where our only re- 
lief was the sight of the Alps and a view of the battlefield 
of Marengo, which lay just on our right, we came to a 
stand : the road terminated at a large stream where work- 
men were busily engaged in making a bridge across. We 



280 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

pulled off our boots and waded through, took a refreshing 
bath in the clear waters and walked on through by-lanes. 
The sides were lined with luxuriant vines bending under 
the ripening vintage, and we often cooled our thirst with 
some of the rich bunches. 

The large branch of the Po we crossed came down from 
the mountains which we were approaching. As we reached 
the post-road again they were glowing in the last rays of 
the sun, and the evening vapors that settled over the plain 
concealed the distant Alps, although the snowy top of the 
Jungfrau and her companions the Wetterhorn and Schreck- 
horn rose above it like the hills of another world. A cas- 
tle or church of brilliant white marble glittered on the 
summit of one of the mountains near us, and, as the sun 
went down without a cloud, the distant summits changed 
in hue to a glowing purple, amounting almost to crimson, 
which afterward darkened into a deep violet. The western 
half of the sky was of a pale orange and the eastern a 
dark red, which blended together in the blue of the zenith, 
that deepened as twilight came on. I know not if it was a 
fair specimen of an Italian sunset, but I must say, without 
wishing to be partial, that, though certainly very soft and 
beautiful, there is no comparison with the splendor of such 
a scene in America. The day-sky of Italy better deserves 
its reputation. Although no clearer than our own, it is of 
a far brighter blue, arching above us like a dome of sap- 
phire and seeming to sparkle all over with a kind of crystal 
transparency. 

We stopped the second night at Arquato, a little village 
among the mountains, and after having bargained with the 
merry landlord for our lodgings in broken Italian took a 
last look at the plains of Piedmont and the Swiss Alps in 
the growing twilight. We gazed out on the darkening 
scene till the sky was studded with stars, and went to rest 
with the exciting thought of seeing Genoa and the Medi- 



A PRIESTLY BENEDICTION. 281 

terranean on the morrow. Next morning we started early, 
and after walking some distance made our breakfast in a 
grove of chestnuts, on the cool mountain-side, beside a 
fresh stream of water. The sky shone like a polished gem 
and the glossy leaves of the chestnuts gleamed in the morn- 
ing sun. Here and there on a rocky height stood the re- 
mains of some knightly castle telling of the Goths and 
Normans who descended through these mountain-passes to 
plunder Rome. 

As the sun grew high the heat and dust became intoler- 
able, and this, in connection with the attention we raised 
everywhere, made us somewhat tired of foot-travelling in 
Italy. I verily believe the people took us for pilgrims on 
account of our long white blouses, and had I a scallop- 
shell I would certainly have stuck it into my hat to com- 
plete the appearance. We stopped once to ask a priest the 
road ; when he had told us, he shook hands with us and 
gave us a parting benediction. At the common inns where 
we stopped we always met with civil treatment, though, 
indeed, as we only slept in them, there was little chance of 
practising imposition. We bought our simple meals at the 
baker's and grocer's, and ate them in the shade of the grape- 
bowers, whose rich clusters added to the repast. In this 
manner we enjoyed Italy at the expense of a franc daily. 
About noon, after winding about through the narrow de- 
files, the road began ^ascending. The reflected heat from 
the hills on each side made it like an oven. There was not 
a breath of air stirring, but we all felt, although no one 
said it, that from the summit we could see the Mediterra- 
nean, and we pushed on as if life or death depended on it. 
Finally the highest point came in sight. We redoubled 
our exertions, and a few minutes more brought us to the 
top, breathless with fatigue and expectation. I glanced 
down the other side. There lay a real sea of mountains all 
around ; the farthest peaks rose up afar and dim, crowned 
with white towers, and between two of them which stood 



282 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

apart like the pillars of a gateway we saw the broad ex* 
panse of water stretching away to the horizon — 

" To where the blue of heaven on bluer waves shut down." 

It would have been a thrilling sight to see any ocean 
when one has rambled thousands of miles among the 
mountains and vales of the inland, but to behold this sea, 
of all others, was glorious indeed — this sea, whose waves 
wash the feet of Naples, Constantinople and Alexandria 
and break on the hoary shores where Troy and Tyre and 
Carthage have mouldered away, whose breast has been fur- 
rowed by the keels of a hundred nations through more than 
forty centuries — from the first rude voyage of Jason and 
his Argonauts to the thunders of Navarino that heralded the 
second birth of Greece. You cannot wonder we grew ro- 
mantic ; but short space was left for sentiment in the burn- 
ing sun, with Genoa to be reached before night. The 
mountain we crossed is called the Bochetta, one of the loft- 
iest of the sea- Alps, or Apennines. The road winds steeply 
down toward the sea, following a broad mountain-rivulet, 
now perfectly dried up, as nearly every stream among the 
mountains is. It was a long way to us; the mountains 
seemed as if they would never unfold and let us out on the 
shore, and our weary limbs did penance enough for a mul- 
titude of sins. The dusk was beginning to deepen over the 
bay and the purple hues of sunset were dying away from 
its amphitheatre of hills as we came in sight of the gorgeous 
city. Half the population were out to celebrate a festival, 
and we made our entry in the triumphal procession of some 
saint. 



THE MEDITERKANEAN. 283 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

SCENES IN GENOA, LEGHORN AND PISA. 

Have you ever seen some grand painting of a city rising 
with its domes and towers and palaces from the edge of a 
glorious bay shut in by mountains, the whole scene clad in 
those deep, delicious, sunny hues which you admire so much 
in the picture, although they appear unrealized in Nature ? 
If so, you can figure to yourself Genoa as she looked to us 
at sunset from the battlements west of the city. When we 
had passed through the gloomy gate of the fortress that 
guards the western promontory, the whole scene opened at 
once on us in all its majesty. It looked to me less like a 
real landscape than a mighty panoramic painting. The 
battlements where we were standing, and the blue mirror 
of the Mediterranean just below, with a few vessels moored 
near the shore, made up the foreground ; just in front lay 
the queenly city, stretching out to the eastern point of the 
bay like a great meteor, this point crowned with the towers 
and dome of a cathedral representing the nucleus, while the 
tail gradually widened out and was lost among the number- 
less villas that reached to the top of the mountains behind. A 
mole runs nearly across the mouth of the harbor, with a tall 
lighthouse at its extremity, leaving only a narrow passage 
for vessels. As we gazed a purple glow lay on the bosom 
of the sea, while far beyond the city the eastern half of the 
mountain-crescent around the gulf was tinted v»^ith the love- 
liest hue of orange. The impressions which one derives 
from looking on remarkable scenery depend for much of 
their effect on the time and weather. I have been very for- 
tunate in this respect in two instances, and shall carry with 
me through life two glorious pictures of a very different 
character — ^the wild sublimity of the Brocken in cloud and 
storm, and the splendor of Genoa in an Italian sunset. 



284 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Genoa has been called the " city of palaces," and it well 
deserves the appellation. Row above row of magnificent 
structures rise amid gardens along the side of the hills, and 
many of the streets, though narrow and crooked, are lined 
entirely with the splendid dwellings of the Genoese nobles. 
All these speak of the republic in its days of wealth and 
power, when it could cope successfully with Venice and 
Doria could threaten to bridle the horses of St. Mark. At 
present its condition is far different ; although not so fallen 
as its rival, it is but a shadow of its former self. The life 
and energy it possessed as a republic has withered away 
under the grasp of Tyranny. 

We entered Genoa, as I have already said, in a religious 
procession. On passing the gate we saw, from the concourse 
of people and the many banners hanging from the windows 
or floating across the streets, that it was the day of a festa. 
Before entering the city we reached the procession itself, 
which was one of unusual solemnity. As it was impossible 
in the dense crowd to pass it, we struggled through till we 
reached a good point for seeing the whole, and slowly moved 
on with it through the city. First went a company of boys 
in white robes ; then followed a body of friars dressed in 
long black cassocks and with shaven crowns ; then a com- 
pany of soldiers with a band of music ; then a body of nuns 
wrapped from head to foot in blue robes, leaving only a 
small place to see out of: in the dusk they looked very sol- 
emn and ghostlike, and their low chant had to me some- 
thing awful and sepulchral in it; then followed another 
company of friars, and after that a great number of priesta 
in white and black robes, bearing the statue of the saint, 
with a pyramid of flowers, crosses and blazing wax tapers, 
while companies of soldiery, monks and music brought up 
the rear. Armed guards walked at intervals on each side 
of the procession, to keep the way clear and prevent dis- 
turbance; two or three bands played solemn airs, alter- 
nating with the deep monotonous chanting of the friars. 



A FINANCIAL BLUNDER 285 

The whole scene, dimly lighted by the wax tapers, produced 
in me a feeling nearly akin to fear, as if I were witnessing 
some ghostly, unearthly spectacle. To rites like these, how- 
ever, which occur every few weeks, the people must be well 
accustomed. 

Among the most interesting objects in Genoa is the Doria 
palace, fit in its splendor for a monarch's residence. It 
stands in the Strada Nova, one of the three principal streets, 
and, I believe, is still in the possession of the family. There 
are many others through the city scarcely less magnificent, 
among which that of the Durazzo family may be pointed 
out. The American consulate is in one of these old edifices, 
with a fine court-yard and ceilings covered with frescos. 
Mr. Moro, the vice-consul, did us a great kindness, which I 
feel bound to acknowledge, although it will require the dis- 
closure of some private, and perhaps uninteresting, circum- 
stances. 

On leaving Frankfort we converted, for the sake of con- 
venience, the greater part of our funds into a draft on a 
Saxon merchant in Leghorn, reserving just enough, as we 
supjDosed, to take us thither. As in our former case in 
Germany, the sum was too small, which we found, to our 
dismay, on reaching Milan. Notwithstanding we had trav- 
elled the whole ninety miles from that city to Genoa for 
three francs each, in the hope of having enough left to en- 
able one, at least, to visit Leghorn, the expenses for a pass- 
port in Genoa (more than twenty francs) prevented this 
plan. I went therefore to the vice-consul to ascertain 
whether the merchant on whom the draft was drawn had 
any correspondents there who might advance a portion of 
it. His secretary made many inquiries, but without effect. 
Mr. Moro then generously offered to furnish me with means 
to reach Leghorn, whence I could easily remit a sufficient 
sum to my two comrades. This put an end to our anxiety 
(for I must confess we could not help feeling some}, and I 
therefore prepared to leave that evening in the Virgilio. 



286 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

The feelings with which I look on this lovely land are 
fast changing. What with the dust and heat and cheating 
landlords and the dull plains of Lombardy, my first ex- 
perience was not very prepossessing. But the joyous and 
romantic anticipation with which I looked forward to real- 
izing the dream of my earliest boyhood is now beginning to 
be surpassed by the exciting reality. Every breath I drew 
in the city of Columbus and Doria was deeply tinctured 
with the magic of history and romance. It was like enter- 
ing on a new existence to look on scenes so lovely by nature 
and so filled with the inspiring memories of old : 

" Italia, too — Italia I Looking on thee, 
Full flashes on the soul the light of ages. 
Since the fierce Carthaginian almost won thee, 
To the last halo of the chiefs and sages 
Who glorify thy consecrated pages, 
Thou wert the throne and grave of empires." 

The Virgilio was advertised to leave at six o'clock, and I 
accordingly went out to her in a little boat half an hour 
beforehand ; but we were delayed much longer, and I saw 
sunset again fade over the glorious amphitheatre of palaces 
and mountains with the same orange glow, the same purple 
and crimson flush deepening into twilight, as before. An 
old blind man in a skiff floated around under the bows of 
the boat on the glassy water, singing to the violin a plain- 
tive air that appeared to be an evening hymn to the Virgin. 
There was something very touching in his venerable coun- 
tenance, with the sightless eyes turned upwaid to the sunset 
heaven whose glory he could nevermore behold. 

The lamps were lit on the tower at the end of the mole 
as we glided out on the open sea. I stood on deck and 
watched the receding lights of the city till they and the 
mountains above them were blended with the darkened sky. 
The sea-breeze was fresh and cool, and the stars glittered 
with a frosty clearness which would have made the night 



NAPOLEON'S PRISON-KINGDOM. 287 

delicious had not a slight rolling of the waves obliged me 
to go below. Here, besides being half sea-sick, I was 
placed at the mercy of many voracious fleas, who obsti- 
nately stayed, persisting in keeping me company. This was 
the first time I had suffered from these cannibals, and such 
were my torments I almost wished some bloodthirsty Italian 
would come and put an end to them with his stiletto. 

The first ray of dawn that stole into the cabin sent me on 
deck. The hills of Tuscany lay in front, sharply outlined 
on the reddening sky ; near us was the steep and rocky isle 
of Gorgona, and far to the south-west, like a low mist along 
the water, ran the shores of Corsica, the birthplace of Colum- 
bus and Napoleon.* As the dawn brightened we saw on 
the southern horizon a cloud-like island also imperishably 
connected with the name of the latter — the prison-kingdom 
of Elba. North of us extended the rugged mountains of 
Carrara, that renowned range whence has sprung many a 
form of almost breathing beauty, and w^here yet slumber, 
perhaps, in the unhewn marble the godlike shapes of an 
age of art more glorious than any the world has ever yet 
beheld. 

The sun rose from behind the Apennines, and masts and 
towers became visible through the golden haze as we ap- 
proached the shore. On a flat space between the sea and 
the hills, not far from the foot of Montenero, stands Leg- 
horn. The harbor is protected by a mole, leaving a narrow 
passage, through which we entered ; and after waiting two 
hours for the visit of the health- and police-ofhcers, we were 
permitted to go on shore. The first thing that struck me 
was the fine broad streets ; the second, the motley character 
of the population. People were hurrying about noisy and 
bustling — Greeks in their red caps and capotes, grave tur- 
baned and bearded Turks, dark Moors, the corsair-looking 
natives of Tripoli and Tunis and seamen of nearly every 

* By recent registers found in Corsica, it lias been determined that 
this island also gave birth to the discoverer of the New World. 



288 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

nation. At the hotel where I stayed we had a singular 
mixture of nations at dinner — two French, two Swiss, one 
Genoese, one Roman, one American and one Turk, and we 
were waited on by a Tuscan and an Arab. We conversed 
together in four languages all at once. 

To the merchant Leghorn is of more importance than to 
the traveller. Its extensive trade — not only in the manu- 
factures of Tuscany, but also in the productions of the Le- 
vant — makes it important to the former, while the latter 
seeks in vain for fine buildings, galleries of art or interest- 
ing historical reminiscences. Through the kind attention 
of the Saxon consul, to whom I had letters, two or three 
days went by delightfully. 

The only place of amusement here in summer is a 
drive along the seashore — called the Ardenza — which is 
frequented every evening by all who can raise a vehicle. I 
visited it twice with a German friend. We met one even- 
ing the princess Corsini, wife of the governor of Leghorn, 
on horseback — a young but not pretty woman. The road 
leads out along the Mediterranean, past an old fortress, to 
a large establishment for the sea-bathers, where it ends in 
a large ring around which the carriages pass and repass 
until sunset has gone out over the sea, when they return to 
the city in a mad gallop or as fast as the lean horses can 
draw them. 

In driving around we met two or three carriages of 
Turks, in one of which I saw a woman of Tunis with a cu- 
rious gilded headdress eighteen inches in height. 

I saw one night a Turkish funeral. It passed me in one 
of the outer streets on its way to the Turkish burying- 
ground. Those following the coffin — which was covered 
with a heavy black pall — wore white turbans and long 
white robes, the mourning-color of the Turks. Torches 
were borne by attendants, and the whole comi^any passed 
on at a quick pace. Seen thus by night, it had a strange 
and spectral appearance. 



A KEVOLTING SPECTACLE. 289 

There is another spectacle here which was exceedingly 
revolting to me. The condemned criminals, chained two 
and two, are kept at work through the city cleaning the 
streets. They are dressed in coarse garments of a dirty red 
color, with the name of the crime for which they were con- 
victed painted on the back. I shuddered to see so many 
marked with the works " Omicidio Fremeditato.^' All day 
they are thus engaged, exposed to the scorn and contu- 
mely of the crowd, and at night dragged away to be incar- 
cerated in damp, unwholesome dungeons excavated under 
the public thoroughfares. The employment of criminals in 
this way is common in Italy. Two days after crossing St. 
Gothard we saw a company of abject-looking creatures eating 
their dinner by the roadside, near Bellinzona. One of them 
had a small basket of articles of cotton and linen, and as he 
rose up to offer them to us I was startled by the clank of 
fetters. They were all employed to labor on the road. 

On going down to the wharf in Leghorn, in the morning, 
two or three days ago, I found F and B just step- 
ping on shore from the steamboat, tired enough of the dis- 
comforts of the voyage, yet anxious to set out for Florence 
as soon as possible. After we had shaken off the crowd of 
porters, pedlers and vetturini and taken a hasty breakfast at 
the Cafe Americano, we went to the police-office to get our 
passports, and had the satisfaction of paying two francs for 
permission to proceed to Florence. The weather had 
changed since the preceding day, and the sirocco-wind, 
which blows over from the coast of Africa, filled the streets 
wdth clouds of dust, which made walking very unpleasant. 
The clear blue sky had vanished and a leaden cloud hung 
low on the Mediterranean, hiding the shores of Corsica and 
the rocky isles of Gorgona and Capraja. 

The country between Leghorn and Pisa is a flat marsh 
intersected in several places by canals to carry off the stag- 
nant water which renders this district so unhealthy. It is 
said that the entire plain between the mountains of Car- 
lo 



290 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

rara and the hills back of Leghorn has been gradually- 
formed by the deposits of the Arno and the receding of the 
Mediterranean, which is so shallow along the whole coast 
that large vessels have to anchor several miles out. As we 
approached Pisa over the level marsh I could see the dome 
of the cathedral and the Leaning Tower rising above the 
gardens and groves which surround it. 

Our baggage underwent another examination at the gate, 
where we were again assailed by the vetturini, one of whom 
hung on us like a leech till we reached a hotel, and there 
was finally no way of shaking him ofiT except by engaging 
him to take us to Florence. The bargain having been con- 
cluded, we had still a few hours left, and set off to hunt the 
cathedral. We found it on an open square near the outer 
wall and quite remote from the main part of the town. 
Emerging from the narrow and winding street, one takes in 
at a glance the baptistery, the Compo Santo, the noble 
cathedral and the Leaning Tower, forming altogether a 
view rarely surpassed in Europe for architectural effect. 
But the square is melancholy and deserted, and rank, un- 
trampled grass fills the crevices of its marble pavement. 

I was surprised at the beauty of the Leaning Tower. 
Instead of an old black, crumbling fabric, as I always sup- 
posed, it is a light, airy, elegant structure of white marble, 
and its declension — which is interesting as a work of art (or 
accident) — is at the same time pleasing from its novelty. 
There have been many conjectures as to the cause of this 
deviation, which is upward of fourteen feet from the per- 
pendicular; it is now generally believed that, the earth 
having sunk when the building was half finished, it was 
continued by the architects in the same angle. The upper 
gallery, which is smaller than the others, shows a very per- 
ceptible inclination back toward the perpendicular, as if in 
some degree to counterbalance the deviation of the other 
part. There are eight galleries in all, supported by 



ANGELIC HARMONY. 291 

marble pillars, but the inside of the tower is hollow to the 
very top. 

We ascended by the same stairs which were trodden so 
often by Galileo in going up to make his astronomical obser- 
vations. In climbing spirally around the hollow cylinder 
in the dark it was easy to tell on which side of the tower 
we were, from the proportionate steepness of the staircase. 
There is a fine view from the top, embracing the whole 
plain as far as Leghorn on one side, with its gardens and 
grainfields spread out like a vast map. In a valley of the 
Carrarese Mountains, to the north, we could see the little 
town of Lucca, much frequented at this season on account 
of its baths ; the blue summits of the Apennines shut in 
the view to the east. In walking through the city I noticed 
two other towers, which had nearly as great a deviation 
from the perpendicular. 

We met a person who had the key of the baptistery, 
which he opened for us. Two ancient columns covered 
with rich sculpture form the doorway, and the dome is sup- 
ported by massive pillars of the red marble of Elba. The 
baptismal font is of the purest Parian marble. The most 
remarkable thing was the celebrated musical echo. Our 
cicerone stationed himself at the side of the font and sang 
a few notes. After a moment's pause they were repeated 
aloft in the dome, but with a sound of divine sweetness as 
clear and pure as the clang of a crystal bell. Another 
pause, and we heard them again, higher, fainter and 
sweeter, followed by a dying note, as if they were fading 
far away into heaven. It seemed as if an angel lingered 
in the temple echoing with his melodious lips the common 
harmonies of earth. Even thus does the music of good 
deeds hardly noted in our grosser atmosphere awake a di- 
vine echo in the far world of spirit. 

The Campo Santo, on the north side of the cathedral, 
was until lately the cemetery of the city ; the space en- 
closed within its marble galleries is filled to the depth of 



292 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

eight or ten feet with earth from the Holy Land. The ves- 
sels which carried the knights of Tuscany to Palestine were 
filled at Joppa, on returning, with this earth as ballast, and 
on arriving at Pisa it was deposited in the cemetery. It 
has the peculiar property of decomposing all human bodies 
in the space of two days. A colonnade of marble encloses 
it, with windows of the most exquisite sculpture opening on 
the inside. They reminded me of the beautiful Gothic 
oriels of Melrose. At each end are two fine green cy- 
presses, which thrive remarkably in the soil of Palestine. 
The dust of a German emperor, among others, rests in this 
consecrated ground. There are other fine churches in Pisa, 
but the four buildings I have mentioned are the principal 
objects of interest. The tower where Count TJgolino and 
his sons were starved to death by the citizens of Pisa, who 
locked them up and threw the keys into the Arno, has 
lately been destroyed. 

An Italian gentleman having made a bargain in the mean 
time with our vetturino, we found everything ready on re- 
turning to the hotel. On the outside of the town we 
mounted into the vehicle — a rickety-looking concern — -and, 
as it commenced raining, I was afraid we would have a 
bad night of it. After a great deal of bargaining the 
vetturino agreed to take us to Florence that night for five 
francs apiece, provided one person would sit on the outside 
with the driver. I accordingly mounted on front, protected 
by a blouse and umbrella, for it was beginning to rain dis- 
mally. The miserable bare-boned horses were fastened 
with rope-traces, and the vetturino, having taken the rope- 
lines in his hand, gave a flourish with his whip. One old 
horse tumbled nearly to the ground, but he jerked him up 
again, and we rattled ofl?*. 

After riding ten miles in this way, it became so wet and 
dreary that I was fain to give the driver two francs extra 
for the privilege of an inside seat. Our Italian companion 
was agreeable and talkative, but, as we were still ignorant 



AEEIVAL AT FLOEENCE. 293 

of the language, I managed to hold a scanty conversation 
with him in French. He seemed delighted to learn that we 
were from America ; his polite reserve gave place to a 
friendly familiarity, and he was loud in his praises of the 
Americans. I asked him why it was that he, and the Ital- 
ians generally, were so friendly toward us. "I hardly 
know," he answered ; " you are so different from any other 
nation. And then, too, you have so much sincerity." 

The Apennines were wreathed and hidden in thick mist, 
and the prospect over the flat cornfields bordering the road 
was not particularly interesting. We had made about one- 
third of the way as night set in, when, on ascending a hill 

soon after dark, F happened to look, out and saw one 

of the axles bent and nearly broken off. We were obliged 
to get out and walk through the mud to the next village, 
when, after two hours' delay, the vetturino came along with 
another carriage. 

Of the rest of the way to Florence I cannot say much. 
Cramped up in the narrow vehicle, we jolted along in the 
dark, rumbling now and then through some silent village 
where lamps were burning before the solitary shrines. 
Sometimes a blinding light crossed the road, where we saw 
the tile-makers sitting in the red glare of their kilns, and 
often the black boughs of trees were painted momentarily 
on the cloudy sky. If the jolting carriage had even per- 
mitted sleep, the horrid cries of the vetturino urging on his 
horses would have prevented it, and I decided, while trying 
to relieve my aching limbs, that three days' walking in sun 
and sand was preferable to one night of such travel. Fi- 
nally, about four o'clock in the morning, the carriage stop- 
ped. My Italian friend awoke and demanded the cause. 
" Signor," said the vetturino, " we are in Florence." I bless- 
ed the man, and the city too. 

The good-humored officer looked at our passports and 
passed our baggage without examination ; we gave the gate- 
keeper a paul, and he admitted us. The carriage rolled 



294 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

through the dark, silent streets, passed a public square, 
came out on the Arno, crossed and entered the city again, 
and finally stopped at a hotel. 

The master of the Lione Bianco came down in an undress 
to receive us, and we shut the growing dawn out of our 
rooms to steal that repose from the day which the night had 
not given. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

FLORENCE AND ITS GALLERIES. 

Sept. 11. 

Our situation here is as agreeable as we could well desire. 
We have three large and handsomely-furnished rooms in 
the centre of the city, for which we pay Signer Lazzeri — a 
wealthy goldsmith — ten scudo per month, a scudo being a 
trifle more than an American dollar. We live at the cafes 
and trattoria yqtj conveniently for twenty-five cents a day, 
enjoying, moreover, at our dinner in the Trattoria del Cac- 
ciatore, the company of several American artists with whom 
we have become acquainted. The day after our arrival we 
met, at the table d'hote of the Lione Bianco Dr. Boardman 
of New York, through whose assistance we obtained our 
present lodgings. 

There are at present ten or twelve American artists in 
Florence, and we promise ourselves much pleasure and 
profit from their acquaintance. B and I are so charm- 
ed with the place and the beautiful Tuscan dialect that we 

shall endeavor to spend three or four months here. F 

returns to Germany in two weeks, to attend the winter term 
of the university at his favorite Heidelberg. 

Our first walk in Florence was to the royal gallery : we 



^ THE VENUS DE MEDICI. 295 

wished to see the " goddess living in stone " without delay. 
Crossing the neighboring Piazza del Granduca, we passed 
Michael Angelo's colossal statue of David, and an open 
gallery containing, besides, some antiques, the master-piece 
of John of Bologna. The palace of the Uffizii, fronting on 
the Arno, extends along both sides of an avenue running 
back to the Palazzo Vecchio. We entered the portico which 
passes around under the great building, and after ascending 
three or four flights of steps came into a long hall filled 
with paintings and ancient statuary. Toward the end of 
this a door opened into the Tribune — that celebrated room, 
unsurpassed by any in the world for the number and value 
of the gems it contains. I pushed aside a crimson curtain, 
and stood in the presence of the Venus. 

It may be considered heresy, but I confess I did not at 
first go into raptures nor perceive any traces of superhu- 
man beauty. The predominant feeling, if I may so express 
it, was satisfaction. The eye dwells on its faultless outline 
with a gratified sense that nothing is wanting to render it 
perfect. It is the ideal of a woman's form — a faultless 
standard by which all beauty may be measured, but with- 
out striking expression except in the modest and graceful 
position of the limbs. The face, though regular, is not 
handsome, and the body appears small, being but five feet 
in height, which, I think, is a little below the average stat- 
ure of women. On each side, as if to heighten its elegance 
by contrast with rude and unrefined nature, are the statues 
of the Wrestlers, and the slave listening to the conspiracy 
of Catiline, called also '^The Whetter." 

As if to correspond with the value of the works it holds, 
the Tribune is paved with precious marbles and the ceiling 
studded with polished mother-of-pearl. A dim and subdued 
light fills the hall which throws over the mind that half- 
dreamy tone necessary to the full enjoyment of such objects. 
On each side of the Venus de Medici hangs a Venus by 
Titian, the size of life, and painted in that rich and gor- 



296 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

geous style of coloring which has been so often and Vainly 
attempted since his time. 

Here are six of Kaphael's best preserved paintings. I 
prefer the " St. John in the Desert " to any other picture 
in the Tribune. His glorious form, in the fair proportions 
of ripening boyhood, the grace of his attitude, with the arm 
lifted eloquently on high, the divine inspiration which illu- 
mines his young features, chain the step irresistibly before 
it. It is one of those triumphs of the pencil which few but 
Raphael have accomplished — the painting of spirit in its 
loftiest and purest form. Near it hangs the Fornarina, 
which he seems to have painted in as deep a love as he en- 
tertained for the original. The face is modest and beauti- 
ful, and filled with an expression of ardent and tender at- 
tachment. I never tire looking upon either of these two. 

Let me not forget, while we are in this peerless hall, to 
point out Guercino's Samian Sybil. It is a glorious work. 
With her hands clasped over her volume, she is looking up 
with a face full of deep and expressive sadness. A pictur- 
esque turban is twined around her head, and bands of 
pearls gleam amidst her rich dark-brown tresses. Her face 
bears the softness of dawning womanhood, and nearly an- 
swers my ideal of female beauty. The same artist has an- 
other fine picture here — a Sleeping Endymion. The man- 
tle has fallen from his shoulders as he reclines asleep with 
his head on his hand and his crook beside him. The silver 
crescent of Dian looks over his shoulder from the sky be- 
hind, and no wonder if she should become enamored, for a 
lovelier shepherd has not been seen since that of King Ad- 
metus went back to drive his chariot in the heavens. 

The " Drunken Bacchus " of Michael Angelo is greatly 
admired, and, indeed, it might pass for a relic of the palm- 
iest times of Grecian art. The face, amidst its half-vacant 
sensual expression, shows traces of its immortal origin, and 
there is still an air of dignity preserved in the swagger of 
his beautiful form. It is, in a ^word, the ancient idea of a 



THE HALL OF NIOBE. 297 

drunken god. It may be doubted whether the artist's tal- 
ents might not have been employed better than in enno- 
bling intoxication. If he had represented Bacchus as he 
really is — degraded even below the level of humanity — it 
might be more beneficial to the mind, though less beautiful 
to the eye. However, this is a question on which artists 
and moralists cannot agree. Perhaps, too, the rich blood 
of the Falernian grape produced a more godlike delirium 
than the vulgar brandy which oversets the moderns. 

At one end of the gallery is a fine copy in marble of the 
Laocoon by Bandinelli, one of the rivals of Michael An- 
gelo. When it was finished, the former boasted it was bet- 
ter than the original, to which Michael made the apt reply, 
" It is foolish for those who walk in the footsteps of others 
to say they go before them." 

Let us enter the Hall of Niobe. One starts back on see- 
ing the many figures in the attitude of flight, for they seem 
at first about to spring from their pedestals. At the head 
of the room stands the afilicted mother, bending over the 
youngest daughter, who clings to her knees with an up- 
turned countenance of deep and imploring agony. In vain ! 
The shafts of Apollo fall thick, and she will soon be child- 
less. No wonder the strength of that woe depicted on her 
countenance should change her into stone. One of her sons 
— a beautiful boyish form — is lying on his back, just expir- 
ing, with the chill languor of death creeping over his limbs. 
We seem to hear the quick whistling of the arrows, and 
look involuntarily into the air to see the hovering figure of 
the avenging god. In a chamber near is kept the head of 
a faun made by Michael Angelo, at the age of fourteen, in 
the garden of Lorenzo de Medici, from a piece of marble 
given him by the workmen. 

The portraits of the painters are more than usually in- 
teresting. Every countenance is full of character. There 
is the pale, enthusiastic face of Raphael, the stern vigor of 
Titian, the majesty and dignity of Leonardo da Vinci and 



298 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the fresh beauty of Angelica Kauffmann. I liked best the 
romantic head of Eaphael Mengs. In one of the rooms 
there is a portrait of Alfieri with an autograph sonnet of 
his own on the back of it. The house in which he lived 
and died is on the north bank of the Arno, near the Ponte 
Caraja, and his ashes rest in Santa Croce. 

Italy still remains the home of art, and it is but just she 
should keep these treasures, though the age that brought 
them forth has passed away. They are her only support 
now ; her people are dependent for their subsistence on the 
glory of the past. The spirits of the old painters, living 
still on their canvas, earn from year to year the bread of 
an indigent and oppressed people. This ought to silence 
those utilitarians at home who oppose the cultivation of the 
fine arts on the ground of their being useless luxuries. Let 
them look to Italy, where a picture by Eaphal or Correggio 
is a rich legacy for a whole city. Nothing is useless that 
gratifies that perception of beauty which is at once the most 
delicate and the most intense of our mental sensations, bind- 
ing us by an unconscious link nearer to Nature and to Him 
whose every thought is born of Beauty, Truth and Love. 
I envy not the one who looks with a cold and indifferent 
spirit on these immortal creations of the old masters — these 
poems written in marble and on the canvas. They who oppose 
everything which can refine and spiritualize the nature of 
man by binding him down to the cares of the work-day 
world alone cheat life of half its glory. 

The 8th of this month was the anniversary of the birth of 
the Virgin, and the celebration, if such it might be called, 
commenced the evening before. It is the custom — and 
Heaven only knows how it originated — for the people of 
the lower class to go through the streets in a company blow- 
ing little penny whistles. We were walking that night in 
the direction of the Duomo, when we met a band of these 
men blowing with all their might on the shrill whistles ; so 
that the whole neighborhood resounded with one continual, 



FIESOLE. 299 

piercing, ear-splitting shriek. They marched in a kind of 
quick trot through the streets, followed by a crowd of boys, 
and varying the noise occasionally by shouts and howls of 
the most horrible character. They paraded through all the 
principal streets of the city, which for an hour sent up such 
an agonizing scream that you might have fancied it an 
enormous monster expiring in great torment. The people 
seemed to take the whole thing as a matter of course, but 
it was to us a novel manner of ushering in a religious fes- 
tival. 

The sky was clear and blue — as it always is in this Italian 
paradise — when we left Florence a few days ago for Fiesole. 
In spite of many virtuous efforts to rise early, it was nine 
o'clock before we left the Porta San Gallo, with its tri- 
umphal arch to the emperor Francis striding the road to 
Bologna. We passed through the public walk at this end 
of the city, and followed the road to Fiesole along the dried- 
up bed of a mountain-torrent. The dwellings of the Floren- 
tine nobility occupy the whole, slope, surrounded with rich 
and lovely gardens. The mountain and plain are both cov- 
ered with luxuriant olive orchards, whose foliage of silver 
gray gives the scene the look of a moonlight landscape. 

At the base of the mountain of Fiesole we passed one of 
the summer palaces of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and a little 
distance beyond took a footpath overshadowed by magnifi- 
cent cypresses, between whose dark trunks we looked down 
on the lovely Val d'Arno. But I will reserve all descrip- 
tion of the view till we arrive at the summit. 

The modern village of Fiesole occupies the site of an an- 
cient city generally supposed to be of Etrurian origin. Just 
above, on one of the peaks of the mountain, stands the Acrop- 
olis, formerly used as a fortress, but now untenanted save 
by a few monks. From the side of its walls, beneath the 
shade of a few cypresses, there is a magnificent view of the 
whole of Val d'Arno, with Florence, the gem of Italy, in 
the centre. 



300 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Stand with me a moment on the height, and let us gaze 
on this grand panorama, around which the Apennines 
stretch with a majestic sweep, wrapped in a robe of purple 
air, through which shimmer the villas and villages on their 
sides. The lovely vale lies below us in its garb of olive- 
groves, among which beautiful villas are sprinkled as plen- 
tifully as white anemones in the woods of May. Florence 
lies in front of us, the magnificent cupola of the Duomo 
crowning its clustered palaces. We see the airy tower of the 
Palazzo Vecchio, the new spire of Santa Croce and the long 
front of the Palazzo Pitti, with the dark foliage of the Bo- 
boli Gardens behind. Beyond, far to the south, are the 
summits of the mountains near Siena. We can trace the 
sandy bed of the Arno down the valley till it disappears at 
the foot of the lower Apennines, which mingle in the dis- 
tance with the mountains of Carrara. 

Galileo was wont to make observations " at evening from 
the top of Fiesole," and the square tower of the old church 
is still pointed out as the spot. Many a night did he as- 
cend to its projecting terrace and watch the stars as they 
rolled around through the clearest heaven to which a phil- 
osopher ever looked up. 

We passed through an orchard of fig trees and vines la- 
den with beautiful purple and golden clusters, and in a few 
minutes reached the remains of an amphitheatre in a little 
nook on the mountain-side. This was a work of Eoman 
construction, as its form indicates. Three or four ranges of 
seats alone are laid bare, and these have only been discov- 
ered within a few years. A few steps farther we came to a 
sort of cavern overhung with wild fig trees. After creeping 
in at the entrance, we found ourselves in an oval chamber 
tall enough to admit of our standing upright, and rudely 
but very strongly built. This was one of the dens in which 
the wild beasts were kept ; they were fed by a hole in the 
top, now closed up. This cell communicates with four or 



SANTA CEOCE. 301 

five others by apertures broken in the walls. I stepped 
into one, and could see in the dim light that it was exactly- 
similar to the first and opened into another beyond. 

Farther down the mountain we found the ancient wall of 
the city, without doubt of Etrurian origin. It is of immense 
blocks of stone, and extends more or less dilapidated around 
the whole brow of the mountain. In one place there stands 
a solitary gateway of large stones which looks as if it might 
have been one of the first attempts at using the principle of 
the arch. These ruins are all gray and ivied, and it startles 
one to think what a history Earth has lived through since 
their foundations were laid. 

We sat all the afternoon under the cypress trees and 
looked down on the lovely valley, practising Italian sometimes 
with two young Florentines who came up to enjoy the " helV 
aria " of Fiesole. Descending as sunset drew on, we reached 
the Porta San Gallo as the people of Florence were issuing 
forth to their evening promenade. 

One of my first visits was to the church of Santa Croce. 
This is one of the oldest in Florence, venerated alike by 
foreigners and citizens for the illustrious dead whose re- 
mains it holds. It is a plain, gloomy pile, the front of which 
is still unfinished, though at the base one sees that it was 
originally designed to be covered with black marble. On 
entering the door we first saw the tomb of Michael Angelo. 
Around the marble sarcophagus which contains his ashes 
are three mourning figures representing Sculpture, Painting 
and Architecture, and his bust stands above — a rough, stern 
countenance, like a man of vast but unrefined mind. Far- 
ther on are the tombs of Alfieri and Machiavelli and the 
colossal cenotaph lately erected to Dante. Opposite re- 
poses Galileo. What a world of renown in these few names ! 
It makes one venerate the majesty of his race to stand be- 
side the dust of such lofty spirits. 

Dante's monument may be said to be only erected to his 
memory ; he sleeps at the place of his exile, 



302 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

" Like Scipio buried by the upbraiding shore." 

It is the work of Ricci, a Florentine artist, and has been 
placed there within a few years. The colossal figure of 
Poetry weeping over the empty urn might better express 
the regret of Florence in being deprived of his ashes. The 
figure of Dante himself, seated above, is grand and majestic; 
his head is inclined as if in meditation, and his features 
bear the expression of sublime thought. Were this figure 
placed there alone on a simple and massive pedestal, it 
would be more in keeping with his fame than the lumber- 
ing heaviness of the present monument. 

Machiavelli's tomb is adorned with a female figure rep- 
resenting History bearing his portrait. The inscription, 
which seems to be somewhat exaggerated, is "Ta7ito nomini 
nullum par elogium." Near lies Alfieri, the " Prince of Trag- 
edy," as he is called by the Italians. In his life he was fond 
of wandering among the tombs of Santa Croce, and it is 
said that there the first desire and presentiment of his fu- 
ture glory stirred within his breast. Now he slumbers 
among them, not the least honored name of that immortal 
company. 

Galileo's tomb is adorned with his bust. His face is calm 
and dignified, and he holds appropriately in his hands a 
globe and telescope. Aretino, the historian, lies on his tomb 
with a copy of his works clasped to his breast ; above that 
of Lanzi, the historian of painting, there is a beautiful 
fresco of the angel of Fame, and opposite to him is the 
scholar Lamio. The most beautiful monument in the 
church is that of a Polish princess, in the transept. She is 
lying on the bier, her features settled in the repose of death 
and her thin, pale hands clasped across her breast. The 
countenance wears that half smile — " so coldly sweet and 
sadly fair " — which so often throws a beauty over the face 
of the dead, and the light pall reveals the fixed yet grace- 
ful outline of the form. 



THE PALAZZO PITTI. 303 

In that part of the city which lies on the south bank of 
the Arno is the palace of the grand duke, known by the 
name of the Palazzo Pitti, from a Florentine noble of that 
name by whom it was first built. It is a very large, impos- 
ing pile, preserving an air of lightness in spite of the rough, 
heavy stones of which it is built. It is another example of 
a magnificent failure. The marquis Strozzi having built a 
palace which was universally admired for its beauty (which 
stands yet, a model of chaste and massive elegance), his 
rival, the marquis Pitti, made the proud boast that he 
would build a palace in the court-yard ot which could be 
placed that of Strozzi. These are actually the dimensions 
of the court-yard, but in building the palace, although he 
was liberally assisted by the Florentine people, he ruined 
himself, and his magnificent residence passed into other 
hands, while that of Strozzi is inhabited by his descendants 
to this very day. 

The gallery of the Palazzo Pitti is one of the finest in 
Europe. It contains six or seven hundred paintings select- 
ed from the best works of the Italian masters. By the 
praiseworthy liberality of the duke they are open to the 
public six hours every day, and the rooms are thronged 
with artists of all nations. 

Among Titian's works, there is his celebrated " Bella," 
a half-length figure of a young woman. It is a masterpiece 
of warm and brilliant coloring, without any decided ex- 
pression. The countenance is that of vague, undefined 
thought, as of one who knew as yet nothing of the realities 
of life. In another room is his Magdalen, a large voluptu- 
ous form, with her brown hair falling like a veil over her 
shoulders and breast, but in her upturned countenance one 
can sooner read a prayer for an absent lover than repentance 
for sins she has committed. 

What could excel in beauty the " Madonna della Sedia" 
of Raphael ? It is another of those works of that divine 
artist on which we gaze and gaze with a never-tiring enjoy- 



304 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

ment of its angelic beauty. To my eye it is faultless ; I 
could not wish a single outline of form, a single shade of 
color, changed. Like his unrivalled Madonna in the Dres- 
den Gallery, its beauty is spiritual as well as earthly ; and 
while gazing on the glorious countenance of the Jesus-child 
I feel an impulse I can scarcely explain — a longing to tear 
it from the canvas as if it were a breathing form and clasp 
it to my heart in a glow of passionate love. What a sub- 
lime inspiration Kaphael must have felt when he painted 
it ! Judging from its effect on the beholder, I can conceive 
of no higher mental excitement than that required to cre- 
ate it. 

Here are also some of the finest and best-preserved pict- 
ures of Salvator Rosa, and his portrait — a wild head full 
of spirit and genius. Besides several landscapes in his sav- 
age and stormy style, there are two large sea-views in which 
the atmosphere is of a deep and exquisite softness without 
impairing the strength and boldness of the composition. 
"A Battle-Scene " is terrible. Hundreds of combatants are 
met in the shock and struggle of conflict. Horses, mailed 
knights, vassals, are mixed together in wild confusion ; ban- 
ners are waving and lances flashing amid the dust and 
smoke, while the wounded and dying are trodden under foot 
in darkness and blood. I now first begin to comprehend 
the power and sublimity of his genius. From the wiid- 
ness and gloom of his pictures, he might almost be called 
the Byron of painters. 

There is a small group of the " Fates," by Michael An- 
gelo, which is one of the best of the few pictures which re- 
main of him. As is well known, he disliked the art, saying it 
was only fit for women. This picture shows, however, how 
much higher he might have gone had he been so inclined. 
The three weird sisters are ghostly and awful — the one who 
stands behind, holding the distafl?", almost frightful. She 
who stands ready to cut the thread as it is spun out has a 
slight trace of pity on her fixed and unearthly lineaments. 



CANOVA'S VEKUS. 305 

It is a faithful embodiment of the old Greek idea of the 
Fates. I have wondered why some artist has not attempted 
the subject in a different way. In the Northern mythology 
they are represented as wild maidens armed with swords 
and mounted on fiery coursers. Why might they not also 
be pictured as angels with countenances of a sublime and 
mysterious beauty — one all radiant with hope and promise 
of glory, and one with the token of a better future mingled 
with the sadness with which it severs the links of life ? 

There are many, many other splendid works in this col- 
lection, but it is unnecessary to mention them. I have only 
endeavored, by taking a few of the best known, to give some 
idea of them as they appear to me. There are hundreds 
of pictures here which, though gems in themselves, are by 
masters who are rarely heard of in America, and it would 
be of little interest to go through the gallery describing it 
in guide-book fashion. Indeed, to describe galleries, how- 
ever rich and renowned they may be, is in general a work 
of so much difficulty that I know not whether the writer 
or the reader is made most tired thereby. 

This collection possesses also the celebrated statue of 
Venus by Canova. She stands in the centre of a little 
apartment filled with the most delicate and graceful works 
of painting. Although undoubtedly a figure of great 
beauty, it by no means struck me as possessing that exqui- 
site and classic perfection which has been ascribed to it. 
The Venus de Medici far surpasses it. The head is larger, 
in proportion to the size of the body, than that of the lat- 
ter, but has not the same modest virgin expression. The 
arm wrapped in the robe which she is pressing to her 
breast is finely executed, but the fingers of the other hand 
are bad — looking, as my friend said, as if the ends were 
whittled off". The body is, however, of fine proportions, 
though, taken as a whole, the statue is inferior to many 
other of Canova's works. 

Occupying all the hill back of the Pitti Palace are the 

20 



306 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Boboli Gardens, tliree times a week the great resort of the 
Florentines. They are said to be the most beautiful gar- 
dens in Italy. Numberless paths diverging from a magnif- 
icent amphitheatre in the old Roman style, opposite the 
court-yard, lead either in long flights of steps and terraces 
or gentle windings among beds sweet with roses to the sum- 
mit. Long avenues entirely arched and interwoven with 
the thick foliage of the laurel, which here grows to a tree, 
stretch along the slopes or wind in the woods through thick- 
ets of the fragrant bay. Parterres rich with flowers and 
shrubbery alternate with delightful groves of the Italian 
pine, acacia and laurel-leaved oak, and along the hillside, 
gleaming among the foliage, are placed statues of marble, 
some of which are from the chisels of Michael Angelo and 
Bandinelli. In one part there is a little sheet of water with 
an island of orange trees in the centre, from which a broad 
avenue of cypresses and statues leads to the very summit 
of the hill. 

We often go there to watch the sun set over Florence and 
the vale of the Arno. The palace lies directly below, and 
a clump of pine trees on the hillside, that stand out in bold 
relief on the glowing sky, makes the foreground to one of 
the loveliest pictures this side of the Atlantic. I saw one 
afternoon the grand duke and his family get into their car- 
riage to drive out. One of the little dukes, who seemed a 
mischievous imp, ran out on a projection of the portico, 
where considerable persuasion had to be used to induce him 
to jump into the arms of his royal papa. I turned from 
these titled infants to watch a group of beautiful American 
children playing, for my attention was drawn to them by 
the sound of familiar words, and I learned afterward they 
were the children of the sculptor Powers. I contrasted in- 
voluntarily the destinies of each — one to the enjoyment and 
proud energy of freedom, and one to the confining and 
vitiating atmosphere of a court. The merry voices of the 
latter, as they played on the grass, came to my ears most 



PILGRIMS OF ART. 307 

gratefully. There is nothing , so sweet as to hear one's na- 
tive tongue in a foreign land from the lips of children. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

A PILGRIMAGE TO VALLOMBROSA. 

"A PILGRIMAGE to Vallombrosa" ! In sooth it has a ro- 
mantic sound. The phrase calls up images of rosaries and 
crosses and shaven-headed friars. Had we lived in the 
olden days, such things might verily have accompanied our 
journey to that holy monastery. We might then have gone 
barefoot, saying prayers as we toiled along the banks of the 
Arno and up the steep Apennines, as did Benvenuto Cel- 
lini before he poured the melted bronze into the mould of 
his immortal Perseus. But we are pilgrims to the shrines 
of Art and Genius ; the dwelling-places of great minds are 
our sanctuaries. The mean dwelling in which a poet has 
battled down poverty with the ecstasy of his mighty con- 
ceptions and the dungeon in which a persecuted philosopher 
has languished are to us sacred; we turn aside from the 
palaces of kings and the battlefields of conquerors to visit 
them. The famed miracles of San Giovanni Gualberto 
added little, in our eyes, to the interest of Vallombrosa, but 
there were reverence and inspiration in the names of Dante, 
Milton and Ariosto. 

We left Florence early, taking the way that leads from 
the Porta della Croce up the north bank of the Arno. It 
was a bright morning, but there was a shade of vapor on 
the hills which a practised eye might have taken as a prog- 
nostic of the rain that too soon came on. Fiesole, with its 
tower and Acropolis, stood out brightly from the blue back- 
ground, and the hill of San Miniato lay with its cypress 
groves in the softest morning light. The contadini were 



308 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

driving into the city in their basket wagons, and there were 
some fair young faces among them that made us think Italian 
beauty was not altogether in the imagination. 

After walking three or four miles we entered the Apen- 
nines, keeping along the side of the Arno, whose bed is 
more than half dried up from the long summer heats. The 
mountain-sides were covered with vineyards glowing with 
their wealth of white and purple grapes, but the summits 
were naked and barren. 

We passed through the little town of Ponte Sieve, at the 
entrance of a romantic valley where our view of the Arno 
was made more interesting by the lofty range of the Apen- 
nines, amid whose forests we could see the white front of 
the monastery of Vallombrosa. But the clouds sank low 
and hid it from sight, and the rain came on so hard that we 
were obliged to take shelter occasionally in the cottages by 
the wayside. In. one of these we made a dinner of the hard 
black bread of the country, rendered palatable by the ad- 
dition of mountain-cheese and some chips of an antique 
Bologna sausage. We were much amused in conversing 
with the simple hosts and their shy, gypsy-like children, one 
of whom, a dark-eyed, curly-haired boy, bore the name of Ra- 
phael. We also became acquainted with a shoemaker and 
his family who owned a little olive-orchard and vineyard 
which they said produced enough to support them. Wish- 
ing to know how much a family of six consumed in a year, 
we inquired the yield of their property. They answered, 
" Twenty small barrels of wine and ten of oil." It was 
nearly sunset when we reached Pellago, and the wet walk 
and coarse fare we were obliged to take on the road well 
qualified us to enjoy the excellent supper the pleasant land- 
lady gave us. 

This little town is among the Apennines, at the foot of the 
magnificent mountain of Vallombrosa. What a blessing it 
was for Milton that he saw its loveliness before his eyes 
closed on this beautiful earth and gained from it another 



LUSCIOUS GBAPES. 309 

bue in which to dip his pencil when he painted the bliss of 
Eden ! I watched the hills all day as we approached them, 
and thought how often his eyes had rested on their outlines^ 
and how he had carried their forms in his memory for many 
a sunless year. The banished Dante, too, had trodden 
them, flying from his ungrateful country, and many another 
whose genius has made him a beacon in the dark sea of the 
world's history. It is one of those places where the en- 
joyment is all romance, and the blood thrills as we gaze 
upon it. 

We started early next morning, crossed the ravine and 
took the well-paved way to the monastery along the moun- 
tain-side. The stones are worn smooth by the sleds in which 
ladies and provisions are conveyed up, drawn by the beau- 
tiful white Tuscan oxen. The hills are covered with lux- 
uriant chestnut and oak trees, of those picturesque forms 
which they only wear in Italy ; one wild dell in particular 
is much resorted to by painters for the ready-made fore- 
grounds it supplies. Farther on we passed the paterno, a 
rich farm belonging to the monks. The vines which hung 
from tree to tree were almost breaking beneath clusters as 
heavy and rich as those which the children of Israel bore 
on staves from the Promised Land. Of their flavor we can 
say, from experience, they were worthy to have grown in 
Paradise. We then entered a deep dell of the mountain 
where little shepherd-girls were sitting on the rocks tending 
their sheep and spinning with their fingers from a distaff* in 
the same manner, doubtless, as the Roman shepherdesses 
two thousand years ago. Gnarled, gray olive trees cen- 
turies old grew upon the bare soil, and a little rill fell in 
many a tiny cataract down the glen. By a mill in one of 
the coolest and wildest nooks I ever saw two of us acted the 
part of water-spirits under one of these, to the great aston- 
ishment of four peasants who watched us from a distance. 

Beyond, our road led through forests of chestnut and oak, 
and a broad view of mountain and vale lay below us. We 



310 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

asked a peasant-boy we met how mucli land the monks of 
Vallombrosa possessed. "All that you see," was the reply. 
The dominion of the good Fathers reached once even to the 
gates of Florence. At length, about noon, we emerged from 
the woods into a broad avenue leading across a lawn at 
whose extremity stood the massive buildings of the monas- 
tery. On a rock that towered above it was the Paradisino, 
beyond which rose the mountain covered with forests — 

" Shade above shade, a woody theatre 
Of stateliest view," 

as Milton describes it. We were met at the entrance by a 
young monk in cowl and cassock, to whom we applied for 
permission to stay till the next day, which was immediately 
given. Brother Placido (for that was his name) then asked 
us if we would not have dinner. We replied that our ap- 
petites were none the worse for climbing the mountain, and 
in half an hour we sat down to a dinner the like of which 
we had not seen for a long time. Verily, thought I, it must 
be a pleasant thing to be a monk, after all — that is, a monk 
of Vallombrosa. 

In the afternoon we walked through a grand pine-forest 
to the western brow of the mountain, where a view opened 
which it would require a wonderful power of the imagina- 
tion for you to see in fancy, as I did in reality. From the 
height where we stood the view was uninterrupted to the 
Mediterranean, a distance of more than seventy miles. A 
valley watered by a branch of the Arno swept far to the 
east, to the mountains near the Lake of Thrasymeue; 
north-westward the hills of Carrara bordered the horizon. 
The space between these wide points was filled with moun- 
tains and valleys all steeped in that soft blue mist which 
makes Italian landscapes more like heavenly visions than 
realities. Florence was visible afar off, and the current of 
the Arno flashed in the sun. A cool and almost chilling 
wind blew constantly over the mountain, although the 



THE " LITTLE PAEADISE." 311 

country below basked in summer heat. We lay on the 
rocks and let our souls luxuriate in the lovely scene till 
near sunset. Brother Placido brought us supper in the 
evening with his ever-smiling countenance, and we soon 
after went to our beds in the neat, plain chambers, to get 
rid of the unpleasant coldness. 

Next morning it was damp and misty, and thick clouds 
rolled down the forests toward the convent. I set out for 
the " Little Paradise," taking in my way the pretty cascade 
which falls some fifty feet down the rocks. The building 
is not now as it was when Milton lived here, having been 
rebuilt within a short time. I found no one there, and sat- 
isfied my curiosity by climbing over the wall and looking 
in at the windows. A little chapel stands in a cleft of the 
rock below, to mark the miraculous escape of St. John 
Gualberto, founder of the monastery. Being one day very 
closely pursued by the devil, he took shelter under the 
rock, which immediately became soft and admitted him into 
it, while the fiend, unable to stop, was precipitated over the 
steep. All this is related in a Latin inscription, and we saw 
a large hollow in the rock near which must have been in- 
tended for the imprint left by his sacred person. 

One of the monks told us another legend, concerning a 
little chapel which stands alone on a wild part of the moun- 
tain, above a rough pile of crags, called the " Peak of the 
Devil." " In the time of San Giovanni Gualberto, the 
holy founder of our order," said he, " there was a young 
man of a noble family in Florence who was so moved by 
the words of the saintly father that he forsook the world, 
wherein he had lived with great luxury and dissipation, and 
became monk. But, after a time, being young and tempted 
again by the pleasures he had renounced, he put ofi" the 
sacred garments. The holy San Giovanni warned him of 
the terrible danger in which he stood, and at length the 
wicked young man returned. It was not a great while, 
however, before he became dissatisfied and, in spite all holy 



312 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

counsel, did the same thing again. But behold what hap^ 
pened! As he was walking along the peak where the 
chapel stands, thinking nothing of his great crime, the 
devil sprang suddenly from behind a rock, and, catching 
the young man in his arms before he could escape, carried 
him with a dreadful noise and a great red flame and smoke 
over the precipice ; so that he was never afterward seen." 

The church attached to the monastery is small, but very 
solemn and venerable. I went several times to muse in its 
still, gloomy aisle and hear the murmuring chant of the 
monks, who went through their exercises in some of the 
chapels. At one time I saw them all, in long black cas- 
socks, march in solemn order to the chapel of St. John 
Gualberto, where they sang a deep chant, which to me had 
something awful and sepulchral in it. Behind the high 
altar I saw their black, carved chairs of polished oak, with 
ponderous gilded foliants lying on the rails before them. 
The attendant opened one of these, that we might see the 
manuscript notes, three or four centuries old, from which 
they sung. 

We were much amused in looking through two or three 
Italian books which were lying in the travellers' room. 
One of these, which our friend Mr. Tandy of Kentucky 
read, described the miracles of the patron-saint with an air 
of the most ridiculous solemnity. The other was a descrip- 
tion of the monastery — its foundation, history, etc. In 
mentioning its great and far-spread renown, the author 
stated that even an English poet by the name of Milton 
had mentioned it in the following lines, which I copied ver- 
batim from the book : 

" Thick as autumnal scaves that strow she brooks 
In vallombrosa, whereth Etruian Jades 
Stigh over orch d'embrover." 

In looking over the strangers' book, I found among the 
names of my countrymen that of S. V. Clevenger, the tal- 



A DIETY VILLAGE. 313 

ented and lamented sculptor who died at sea on his passage 
home. There were also the names of Mrs. Shelley and the 
princess Potemkin, and I saw written on the wall the auto- 
graph of Jean Keboul, the celebrated modern French 
poet. 

We were so delighted with the place we would have stay- 
ed another day but for fear of trespassing too much on the 
lavish and unceasing hospitality of the good Fathers ; so in 
the afternoon we shook hands with Brother Placido, and 
turned our backs regretfully upon one of the loneliest and 
loveliest spots of which earth can boast. The sky became 
gradually clear as we descended, and the mist raised itself 
from the distant mountains. We ran down through the 
same chestnut groves, diverging a little to go through the 
village of Tosi, which is very picturesque when seen from a 
distance, but extremely dirty to one passing through. I 
stopped in the ravine below to take a sketch of the mill and 
bridge, and, as we sat, the line of golden sunlight rose 
higher on the mountains above. On walking down the 
shady side of this glen we were enraptured with the scenery. 
A brilliant yet mellow glow lay over the whole opposing 
height, lighting up the houses of Tosi and the white cot- 
tages half seen among the olives, while the mountain of 
Vallombrosa stretched far heavenward like a sunny paint- 
ing, with only a misty wreath floating and waving around 
its summit. The glossy foliage of the chestnuts was made 
still brighter by the warm light, and the old olives softened 
down into a silvery gray whose contrast gave the landscape 
a character of the mellowest beauty. 

As we wound out of the deep glen the broad valleys and 
ranges of the Apennines lay before us, forests, castles and 
villages steeped in the soft, vapory blue of the Italian atmo- 
sphere, and the current of the Arno flashing like a golden 
belt through the middle of the picture. 

The sun was nearly down, and the mountains just below 
him were of a deep purple hue, while those that ran out to 



314 VIEWS A-FOOT. 



the eastward wore the most aerial shade of blue. A few 
scattered clouds floating above soon put on the sunset robe 
of orange, and a band of the same soft color encircled the 
western horizon. It did not reach halfway to the zenith, 
however ; the sky above was blue, of such a depth and 
transparency that to gaze upward was like looking into 
eternity. Then how softly and soothingly the twilight 
came on ! How deep a hush sank on the chestnut glades, 
broken only by the song of the cicada chirping its " Good- 
night carol " ! The mountains, too ! How majestic they 
stood in their deep purple outlines ! mk\ 

Sweet, sweet Italy ! I can feel now how the soul may 
cling to thee, since thou canst thus gratify its insatiable 
thirst for the Beautiful. Even thy plainest scene is clothed 
in hues that seem borrowed of heaven. In the twilight 
more radiant than light, and the stillness more eloquent 
than music, which sink down over the sunny beauty of thy 
shores, there is a silent, intense poetry that stirs the soul 
through all its impassioned depths. With warm, blissful 
tears filling the eyes and a heart overflowing with its 
own bright fancies, I wander in the solitude and calm 
of such a time, and love thee as if I were a child of thy 
soil. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

WALK TO SIENA AND PRATOLINO. — ^INCIDENTS IN FLOR- 
ENCE. 

October 16. 

My cousin, being anxious to visit Rome and reach Hei- 
delberg before the commencement of the winter semester, 
set out, toward the end of September, on foot. We accom- 
panied him as far as Siena, forty miles distant. As I 
shall most probably take another road to the Eternal City, 



PEECAUTIONAKY MEASUEES. 315 

the present is a good opportunity to say something of that 
romantic old town, so famous throughout Italy for the hon- 
esty of its inhabitants. 

We dined the first day seventeen miles from Florence, al 
Tavenella, where for a meagre dinner the hostess had the 
assurance to ask us seven pauls. We told her we would 
give but four and a half, and by assuming a decided man- 
ner, with a plentiful use of the word signora, she w^as per- 
suaded to be fully satisfied with the latter sum. From a 
height near we could see the mountains coasting the Medi- 
terranean, and shortly after, on descending a long hill, the 
little town of Poggibonsi lay in the warm afternoon light 
on an eminence before us. It was soon passed with its 
dusky towers, then Stagia looking desolate in its ruined and 
ivied walls, and, following the advice of a peasant, we 
stopped for the night at the inn of Querciola. As we 
knew something of Italian by this time, we thought it best 
to inquire the price of lodging before entering. The jpa- 
drone asked if we meant to take supper also. We answered 
in the affirmative. " Then," said he, " you will pay half a 
paul" (about five cents) " apiece for a bed." 

We passed under the swinging bunch of boughs which in 
Italy is the universal sign of an inn for the common peo- 
ple, and entered the bare, smoky room appropriated to 
travellers. A long table with well-worn benches was the 
only furniture ; we threw our knapsacks on one end of it 
and sat dowm, amusing ourselves, while supper was prepar- 
ing, in looking at a number of grotesque charcoal draw- 
ings on the wall which the flaring light of our tall iron 
lamp revealed to us. At length the hostess — a kindly- 
looking woman with a white handkerchief folded gracefully 
around her head — brought us a dish of fried eggs, which, 
with the coarse black bread of the peasants and a basketful 
of rich grapes, made us an excellent supper. We slept on 
mattresses stuffed with corn-husks, placed on square iron 
frames, which are the bedsteads most used in Italy. A 



316 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

brightly-painted caricature of some saint or a rough cruci- 
fix, trimmed with bay-leaves, hung at the head of each bed, 
and under their devout protection we enjoyed a safe and 
unbroken slumber. 

Next morning we set out early to complete the remaining 
ten miles to Siena. The only thing of interest on the road 
is the ruined wall and battlements of Castiglione, circling 
a high hill and looking as old as the days of Etruria. The 
towers of Siena are seen at some distance, but, approaching 
it from this side, the traveller does not perceive its romantic 
situation until he arrives. It stands on a double hill which 
is very steep on some sides. The hollow between the two '' 
peaks is occupied by the great public square, ten or fifteen 
feet lower than the rest of the city. We left our knapsacks 
at a cafh and sought the celebrated cathedral, which stands 
in the highest part of the town, forming with its flat dome 
and lofty marble tower an apex to the pyramidal mass of 
buildings. The interior is rich and elegantly perfect. 
Every part is of black and white marble, in what I should 
call the striped style, which has a singular but agreeable 
effect. The inside of the dome and the vaulted ceilings of 
the chapels are of blue, with golden stars ; the pavement 
in the centre is so precious a work that it is kept covered 
with boards and only shown once a year. ^ 

There are some pictures of great value in this cathedral ; 
one, of " The Descent of the Dove," is worthy of the best 
days of Italian art. In an adjoining chamber with frescoed 
walls and a beautiful tessellated pavement is the library, 
consisting of a few huge old volumes which, with their 
brown covers and brazen clasps, look as much like a collec- 
tion of flat leather trunks as anything else. In the centre 
of the room stands the mutilated group of the Grecian 
Graces found in digging the foundation of the cathedral. 
The figures are still beautiful and graceful, with that exqui- 
site curve of outline which is such a charm in the antioue 



AN INTELLIGENT GEEMAN. 317 

statues. Canova has only perfected the idea in his cele- 
brated group, which is nearly a copy of this. 

We strolled through the square, and then accompanied our 
friend to the Roman gate, where we took leave of him for 
six months at least. He felt lonely at the thought of walk- 
ing in Italy without a companion, but was cheered by the 
anticipation of soon reaching Rome. We watched him a 
while walking rapidly over the hot plain toward Radico- 
fani, and then, turning our faces with much pleasure toward 
Florence, we commenced the return walk. I must not for- 
get to mention the delicious grapes which we bought, begged 
and stole on the way. The whole country is like one vine- 
yard, and the people live, in a great measure, on the fruit 
during this part of the year. Would you not think it 
highly romantic and agreeable to sit in the shade of a cy- 
press grove, beside some old weatherbeaten statues, looking 
out over the vales of the Apennines, with a pile of white 
and purple grapes beside you the like of which can scarcely 
be had in America for love or money, and which had been 
given you by a dark-eyed peasant-girl? If so, you may 
envy us, for such was exactly our situation on the morning 
before reaching Florence. 

Being in the Duomo two or three days ago, I met a Ger- 
man traveller who has walked through Italy thus far, and 
intends continuing his journey to Rome and Naples. His 
name is Von Raumer. He was well acquainted with the 
present state of America, and I derived much pleasure from 
his intelligent conversation. We concluded to ascend the 
cupola in company. Two black-robed boys led the way. 
After climbing an infinite number of steps, we reached the 
gallery around the foot of the dome. The glorious view of 
that paradise the vale of the Arno, shut in on all sides by 
mountains, some bare and desolate, some covered with villas, 
gardens and groves, lay in soft, hazy light, with the shadows 
of a few light clouds moving slowly across it. They next 
took us to a gallery on the inside of the dome, where we first 



318 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

saw the immensity of its structure. Only from a distant 
view or in ascending it can one really measure its grandeur. 
The frescos, which from below appear the size of life, are 
found to be rough and monstrous daubs, each figure being 
nearly as many fathoms in length as a man is feet. Con- 
tinuing our ascent, we mounted between the inside and out- 
side shells of the dome. It was indeed a bold idea for Bru- 
nelleschi to raise such a mass in air. The dome of St. 
Peter's, which is scarcely as large, was not made until a 
century after, and this was, therefore, the first attempt at 
raising one on so grand a scale. It seems still as solid as 
if just built. 

There was a small door in one of the projections of the 
lantern, which the sacristan told us to enter and ascend still 
higher. Supposing there was a fine view to be gained, two 
priests who had just come up entered it; the German fol- 
lowed, and I after him. After crawling in at the low door, 
we found ourselves in a hollow pillar little wider than our 
bodies. Looking up, I saw the German's legs just above 
my head, while the other two were above him, ascending 
by means of little iron bars fastened in the marble. The 
priests were very much amused, and the German said, " This 
is the first time I ever learned chimney-sweeping." We 
emerged at length into a hollow cone, hot and dark, with a 
rickety ladder going up somewhere — we could not see where. 
The old priest, not wishing to trust himself to it, sent his 
younger brother up, and we shouted after him, " What kind 
of a view have you ?" He climbed up till the cone got so 
narrow he could go no farther, and answered back in the 
darkness, " I see nothing at all." Shortly after he came 
down covered with dust and cobwebs, and we all descended 
the chimney quicker than we went up. The old priest con- 
sidered it a good joke, and laughed till his fat sides shook. 
We asked the sacristan why he sent us up, and he answered, 
" To see the construction of the church." 

I attended service in the cathedral one dark, rainy morn- 



DEPAKTEB SUNSHlJSE. 319 

ing, and was never before so deeply impressed with the 
majesty and grandeur of the mighty edifice. The thick, 
cloudy atmosphere darkened still more the light which 
came through the stained windows, and a solemn twilight 
reigned in the long aisles. The mighty dome sprang far 
aloft, as if it enclosed a part of heaven, for the light that 
struggled through the windows around its base lay in broad 
bars on the blue, hazy air. I would not have been sur- 
prised at seeing a cloud float along within it. The lofty 
burst of the organ, that seemed like the pantings of a mon- 
ster, boomed echoing away through dome and nave with a 
chiming, metallic vibration that shook the massive pillars 
which it would defy an earthquake to rend. All was 
wrapped in dusky obscurity except where, in the side- 
chapels, crowns of tapers were burning around the images. 
One knows not which most to admire, the genius which 
could conceive or the perseverance which could accomplish 
such a work. On one side of the square the colossal statue 
of the architect — glorious old Brunelleschi — is most appro- 
priately placed, looking up with pride at his performance. 

The sunshine and genial airs of Italy have gone, leaving, 
instead, a cold, gloomy sky and chilling winds. The au- 
tumnal season has fairly commenced, and I suppose I must 
bid adieu to the brightness which made me in love with the 
land. The change has been no less sudden than unpleasant ; 
and if, as they say, it will continue all winter with little 
variation, I shall have to seek a clearer climate. In the 
cold of these European winters there is, as I observed last 
year in Germany, a dull, damp chill quite different from 
the bracing, exhilarating frosts of America. It stagnates 
the vital principle and leaves the limbs dull and heavy, 
with a lifeless feeling which can scarcely be overcome by 
vigorous action. At least, such has been my experience. 

We lately made an excursion to Pratolino, on the Apen- 
nines, to see the vintage and the celebrated Colossus by 
John of Bologna. Leaving Florence in the morning with 



320 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

a cool, fresh wind blowing down from the mountains, we be- 
gan ascending by the road to Bologna. We passed Fiesole 
with its tower and Acropolis on the right, ascending slowly, 
with the bold peak of one of the loftiest Apennines on our 
left. The abundant fruit of the olive was beginning to turn 
brown and the grapes were all gathered in from the vine- 
yards, but we learned from a peasant-boy that the vintage 
was not finished at Pratolino. 

We finally arrived at an avenue, shaded with sycamores, 
leading to the royal park. The vintagers were busy in the 
fields around unloading the vines of their purple tribute^ 
and many a laugh and jest among the merry peasants en- 
livened the toil. We assisted them in disposing of some 
fine clusters, and then sought the " Colossus of the Apen- 
nines." He stands above a little lake, at the head of a long 
mountain-slope broken with clumps of magnificent trees. 
This remarkable figure, the work of John of Bologna, im- 
presses one like a relic of the Titans. He is represented as 
half kneeling, supporting himself with one hand, while the 
other is pressed upon the head of a dolphin from which a 
little stream falls into the lake. The height of the figure, 
when erect, would amount to more than sixty feet. We 
measured one of the feet, which is a single piece of rock 
about eight feet long ; from the ground to the top of one 
knee is nearly twenty feet. The limbs are formed of pieces 
of stone joined together, and the body of stone and brick. 
His rough hair and eyebrows and the beard, which reached 
nearly to the ground, are formed of stalactites taken from 
caves, and fastened together in a dripping -and crusted 
mass. These hung also from his limbs and body, and gave 
him the appearance of Winter in his mail of icicles. By 
climbing up the rocks at his back we entered his body, 
which contains a small-sized room ; it was even possible to 
ascend through his neck and look out at his ear. The face 
is in keeping with the figure — stern and grand — and the 
architect (one can hardly say " sculptor ") has given to it 



A LIBEEAL GOVERNMENT. 321 

the majestic air and sublimity of the Apennines. But who 
can build up an image of the Alp ? 

We visited the factory on the estate where wine and oil 
are made. The men had just brought in a cart-load of large 
Wooden vessels filled with grapes, which they were mashing 
with heavy wooden pestles. When the grapes were pretty 
Well reduced to pulp and juice, they emptied them into an 
enormous tun, which, they told us, would be covered air- 
tight and left for three or four weeks, after which the wine 
would be drawn off at the bottom. They showed us also a 
great stone mill for grinding olives. This estate of the 
grand duke produces five hundred barrels of wine and a 
hundred and fifty of oil every year. The former article is 
the universal beverage of the laboring classes in Italy — or, 
I might say, of all classes ; it is, however, the pure blood of 
the grape, and, although used in such quantities, one sees 
little drunkenness — far less than in our own land. 

Tuscany enjoys at present a more liberal government 
than any other part of Italy, and the people are in many 
respects prosperous and happy. The grand duke, although 
enjoying almost absolute privileges, is disposed to encourage 
every measure which may promote the welfare of his sub- 
jects. The people are, indeed, very heavily taxed, but this 
is less severely felt by them than it would be by the in- 
habitants of colder climes. The soil produces, with little 
labor, all that is necessary for their support ; though kept 
constantly in a state of comparative poverty, they appear 
satisfied with their lot, and rarely look farther than the ne- 
cessities of the present. In love with the delightful climate, 
they cherish their country, fallen as she is, and are rarely 
induced to leave her. Even the wealthier classes of the 
Italians travel very little ; they can learn the manners and 
habits of foreigners nearly as well in their own country as 
elsewhere, and they prefer their own hills of olive and vine 
to the icy grandeur of the Alps or the rich and garden-like 
beauty of England. 

21 



322 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

But, although this sweet climate, with its wealth of sun- 
light and balmy airs, may enchant the traveller for a while 
and make him wish at times that his whole life might be 
spent amid such scenes, it exercises a most enervating in- 
fluence on those who are born to its enjoyment. It relaxes 
mental and physical energy and disposes body and mind to 
dreamy inactivity. The Italians, as a race, are indolent 
and effeminate. Of the moral dignity of man they have 
little conception. Those classes who are engaged in active 
occupation seem even destitute of common honesty, prac- 
tising all kinds of deceits in the most open manner, and 
apparently without the least shame. The state of morals 
is lower than in any other country of Europe ; what little 
virtue exists is found among the peasants. Many of the 
most sacred obligations of society are universally violated, 
and as a natural consequence the people are almost entire 
strangers to that domestic happiness which constitutes the 
true enjoyment of life. 

This dark shadow in the moral atmosphere of Italy hangs 
like a curse on her beautiful soil, weakening the sympathies 
of citizens of freer lands with her fallen condition. I often 
feel vividly the sentiment which Percival puts into the 
mouth of a Greek in slavery: 

"The Spring may here with Autumn twine, 
And both combined may rule the year, 
And fresh-blown flowers and racy wine 

In frosted clusters still be near : 
Dearer the wild and snowy hills 
Where hale and ruddy Freedom smiles." 

No people can ever become truly great or free who are 
not virtuous. If the soul aspires for liberty — pure and 
perfect liberty — it also aspires for everything that is noble 
in truth, everything that is holy in virtue. It is greatly to 
be feared that all those nervous and impatient efforts which 
have been made, and are still being made, by the Italian 



THE CASCINE EACES. 323 

people to better their condition will be of little avail until 
they set up a better standard of principle and make their 
private actions more conformable with their ideas of politi- 
cal independence. 

Oct. 22. 

I attended to-day the fall races at the Cascine. This is 
a dairy-farm of the grand duke on the Arno, below the 
city ; part of it, shaded with magnificent trees, has been 
made into a public promenade and drive which extends for 
three miles down the river. Toward the lower end, on a 
smooth green lawn, is the race-course. To-day was the last 
of the season, for which the best trials had been reserved. 
On passing out the gate at noon we found a number of car- 
riages and pedestrians going the same way. It was the 
very perfection of autumn temperature, and I do not re- 
member to have ever seen so blue hills, so green meadows, 
so fresh air and so bright sunshine combined in one scene 
before. All that gloom and coldness of which I lately com- 
plained has vanished. 

Travelling increases very much one's capacity for admi- 
ration. Every beautiful scene appears as beautiful as if it 
had been the first, and, although I may have seen a hundred 
times as lovely a combination of sky and landscape, the 
pleasure which it awakens is never diminished. This is 
one of the greatest blessings we enjoy — the freshness and 
glory which Nature wears to our eyes for ever. It shows 
that the soul never grows old — that the eye of age can take 
in the impression of beauty with the same enthusiastic joy 
that leaped through the heart of childhood. 

We found the crowd around the race-course but thin ; 
half the people there, and all the horses, appeared to be 
English. It was a good place to observe the beauty of 
Florence, which, however, may be done in a short time, as 
there is not much of it. There is beauty in Italy, undoubt- 
edly, but it is either among the peasants or the higher class 
of nobility. I will tell our American women confidentially 



324 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

— for I know they have too much sense to be vain of it — 
that they surpass the rest of the world as much in beauty 
as they do in intelligence and virtue. I saw in one of the 
carriages the wife of Alexander Dumas, the French author. 
She is a large, fair-complexioned woman, and is now — from 
what cause I know not — living apart from her husband. 

The jockeys paced up and down the fields, preparing 
their beautiful animals for the approaching heat, and as the 
hour drew nigh the mounted dragoons busied themselves in 
clearing the space. It was a one-mile course, to the end 
of the lawn and back. At last the bugle sounded, and ofi* 
went three steeds like arrows let fly. They passed us, their 
light limbs bounding over the turf, a beautiful dark-brown 
taking the lead. We leaned over the railing and watched 
them eagerly. The bell rang. They reached the other end ; 
we saw them turn and come dashing back — nearer, nearer. 
The crowd began to shout, and in a few seconds the brown 
one had won it by four or five lengths. The fortunate horse 
was led around in triumph, and I saw an English lady re- 
markable for her betting propensities come out from the 
crowd and kiss it in apparent delight. 

After an interval three others took the field — all grace- 
ful, spirited creatures. This was a more exciting race than 
the first ; they flew past us nearly abreast, and the crowd 
looked after them in anxiety. They cleared the course like 
wild deer, and in a minute or two came back, the racer of 
an English nobleman a short distance ahead. The jockey 
threw up his hand in token of triumph as he approached 
the goal, and the people cheered him. It was a beautiful 
sight to see those noble animals stretching to the utmost of 
their speed as they dashed down the grassy lawn. The 
lucky one always showed by his proud and erect carriage 
his consciousness of success. 

Florence is fast becoming modernized. The introduction 
of gas and the construction of the railroad to Pisa, which 



NATAL FESTIVITIES. 325 

is nearly completed, will make sad havoc with the air of 
poetry which still lingers in its silent streets. There is 
scarcely a bridge, a tower or a street which is not connected 
with some stirring association. In the Via San Felice, 
Eaphael used to paint when a boy ; near the Ponte Santa 
Trinita stands Michael Angelo's house, with his pictures, 
clothes and painting-implements just as he left it three cen- 
turies ago ; on the south side of the Arno is the house of 
Galileo, and that of Machiavelli stands in an avenue near 
the ducal palace. While threading my way through some 
dark, crooked streets in an unfrequented part of the city I 
noticed an old untenanted house bearing a marble tablet 
above the door. I drew near and read : " In this house of 
the Alighieri was born the Divine Poet !" It was the birth- 
place of Dante I 

Nov. 1. 

Yesterday morning we were apprised of the safe arrival 
of a new scion of the royal family in the world by the ring- 
ing of th€J city bells. To-day, to celebrate the event, the 
shops were closed, and the people made a holiday of it. 
Merry chimes pealed out from every tower, and discharges 
of cannon thundered up from the fortress. In the evening 
the dome of the cathedral was illuminated, and the lines 
of cupola, lantern and cross were traced in flame on the 
dark sky, like a crown of burning stars dropped from 
heaven on the holy pile. I went in and walked down the 
aisle, listening for a while to the grand choral, while the 
clustered tapers under the dome quivered and trembled as 
if shaken by the waves of music which burst continually 
within its lofty concave. 

A few days ago Prince Corsini, prime minister of Tus- 
cany, died at an advanced age. I saw his body brought in 
solemn procession by night, with torches and tapers, to the 
church of Santa Trinita. Soldiers followed with reversed 
arms and muffled drums, the band playing a funeral march. 
I forced myself through the crowd into the church, which 



326 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

"V^as hung with black and gold, and listened to rhe long- 
drawn chanting of the priests around the bier. 

We lately visited the Florentine museum. Besides the 
usual collection of objects of natural history, there is an 
anatomical cabinet very celebrated for its preparations in 
wax. All parts of the human frame are represented so 
wonderfully exact that students of medicine pursue their 
studies here in summer with the same facility as .from real 
" subjects." Every bone, muscle and nerve in the body is 
perfectly counterfeited, the whole forming a collection as 
curious as it is useful. One chamber is occupied with rep- 
resentations of the plague of Rome, Milan and Florence. 
They are executed with horrible truth to nature, but I re- 
gretted afterward having seen them. There are enough 
forms of beauty and delight in the world on which to em- 
ploy the eye, without making it familiar with scenes which 
can only be remembered with a shudder. 

We derive much pleasure from the society of the Ameri- 
can artists who are now residing .in Florence. At the 
houses of Powers and Brown, the painter, we spend many 
delightful evenings in the company of our gifted country- 
men. They are drawn together by a kindred social feeling 
as well as by their mutual aims, and form among themr 
selves a society so unrestrained, American-like, that the 
traveller who meets them forgets his absence for a time. 
These noble representatives of our country, all of whom 
possess the true, inborn spirit of republicanism, have made 
the American name known and respected in Florence. 
Powers especially, who is intimate with many of the prin- 
cipal Italian families, is universally esteemed. The grand 
duke has more than once visited his studio and expressed 
the highest admiration of his talents. 



IBKAHIM PACHA. 327 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

AMERICAN ART IN FLORENCE. 

I HAVE seen Ibrahim Pacha, the son of old Mehemet Ali, 
driving in his carriage through the streets. He is here on 
a visit from Lucca, where he has been spending some time 
on account of his health. He is a man of apparently fifty 
years of age ; his countenance wears a stern and almost 
savage look very consistent with the character he bears and 
the political part he has played. He is rather portly in 
person, the pale olive of his complexion contrasting strongly 
with a beard perfectly white. In common with all his at- 
tendants, he wears the high red cap, picturesque blue tunic 
and narrow trowsers of the Egyptians. There is scarcely 
a man of them whose face, with its wild Oriental beauty, 
does not show to advantage among us civilized and prosaic 
Christians. 

In Florence — and, indeed, through all Italy — ^there is 
much reason for our country to be proud of the high stand 
her artists are taking. The sons of our rude Western 
clime, brought up without other resources than their own 
genius and energy, now fairly rival those who from their 
cradle upward have drawn inspiration and ambition from 
the glorious masterpieces of the old painters and sculptors. 
Wherever our artists are known, they never fail to create a 
respect for American talent, and to dissipate the false no- 
tions respecting our cultivation and refinement which pre- 
vail in Europe. There are now eight or ten of our painters 
and sculptors in Florence, some of whom, I do not hesitate 
to say, take the very first rank among living artists. 

I have been highly gratified in visiting the studio of Mr. 
G. L. Brown, who as a landscape-painter is destined to 
take a stand second to few since the days of Claude Lor- 
raine. He is now without a rival in Florence, or perhaps 



328 ^ VIEWS A-FOOT. 

in Italy, and has youth, genius and a plentiful stock of the 
true poetic enthusiasm for his art to work for him far 
greater triumphs. His Italian landscapes have that golden 
mellowness and transparency of atmosphere which give 
such a charm to the real scenes, and one would think he 
used on his palette, in addition to the more substantial col- 
ors, condensed air and sunlight and the liquid crystal of 
streams. He has wooed Nature like a lover, and she has 
not withheld her sympathy. She has taught him how to 
raise and curve her trees, load their boughs with foliage 
and spread underneath them the broad, cool shadows — to 
pile up the shattered crag and steep the long mountain- 
range in the haze of alluring distance. 

He has now nearly finished a large painting of " Christ 
Preaching in the Wilderness," which is of surprising beauty. 
You look upon one of the fairest scenes of Judea. In front 
the rude multitude are grouped on one side in the edge of 
a magnificent forest ; on the other side towers up a rough 
wall of rock and foliage that stretches back into the dis- 
tance, where some grand blue mountains are piled against 
the sky, and a beautiful stream, winding through the mid- 
dle of the picture, slides away out of the foreground. Just 
emerging from the shade of one of the clifis is the benign, 
figure of the Saviour, with the warm light which breaks 
from behind the trees falling around him as he advances. 
There is a smaller picture of the " Shipwreck of St. Paul," 
in which he shows equal skill in painting a troubled sea and 
breaking storm. He is one of the young artists from whom 
we have most to hope. 

I have been extremely interested in looking over a great 
number of sketches made by Mr. Kellogg of Cincinnati 
during a tour through Egypt, Arabia Petra and Palestine. 
He visited many places out of the general route of travel- 
lers, and, besides the great number of landscape views, 
brought away many sketches of the characters and costumes 
of the Orient. From some of these he has commenced paint- 



AMERICAN AETISTS. 329 

ings which, as his genius is equal to his practice, will be of 
no ordinary value. Indeed, some of these must give him at 
once an established reputation in America. In Constanti- 
nople, where he resided several months, he enjoyed peculiar 
advantages for the exercise of his art through the favor and 
influence of Mr. Carr, the American, and Sir Stratford 
Canning, the British, minister. I saw a splendid diamond 
cup, presented to him by Kiza Pacha, the late grand vizier. 
The sketches he brought from thence and from the valleys 
of Phrygia and the mountain-solitudes of old Olympus are 
of great interest and value. Among his later paintings I 
might mention an angel whose countenance beams with a 
rapt and glorious beauty. A divine light shines through 
all the features and heightens the glow of adoration to an 
expression all spiritual and immortal. If Mr. Kellogg 
will give us a few more of these heavenly conceptions, 
we will place him on a pedestal little lower than that of 
Guido. 

Greenough, who has been some time in Germany, returned 
lately to Florence, where he has a colossal group in progress 
for the portico of the Capitol. I have seen part of it, which 
is nearly finished in the marble. It shows a backwoodsman 
just triumphing in the struggle with an Indian ; another 
group, to be added, will represent the wife and child of the 
former. The colossal size of the statues gives a grandeur 
to the action, as if it were a combat of Titans ; there is a 
consciousness of power, an expression of lofty disdain, in the 
expansion of the hunter's nostril and the proud curve of his 
lip, that might become a god. The spirit of action, of 
breathing, life-like exertion, so much more diflacult to infuse 
into the marble than that of repose, is perfectly attained. I 
will not enter into a more particular description, as it will 
probably be sent to the United States in a year or two. It 
is a magnificent work — the best, unquestionably, that 
Greenough has yet made. The subject, and the grandeur 
he has given it in the execution, will insure it a much more 



330 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

favorable reception than a false taste gave to his Wash- 
ington. 

Mr. C. B. Ives, a young sculptor from Connecticut, has 
not disappointed the high promise he gave before leaving 
home. I was struck with some of his busts in Philadelphia 
— particularly those of Mrs. Sigourney and Joseph R. 
Chandler — and it has been no common pleasure to visit his 
studio here in Florence and look on some of his ideal works. 
He has lately made two models which, when finished in 
marble, will be works of great beauty. They will contribute 
greatly to his reputation here and in America. One of 
these represents a child of four or five years of age holding 
in his hand a dead bird on which he is gazing with childish 
grief and wonder that it is so still and drooping. It is a 
beautiful thought. The boy is leaning forward as he sits, 
holding the lifeless playmate close in his hands, his sadness 
touched with a vague expression, as if he could not yet 
comprehend the idea of death. 

The other is of equal excellence, in a different style ; it is 
a bust of Jephthah's daughter when the consciousness of her 
doom first flashes upon her. The face and bust are beauti- 
ful with the bloom of perfect girlhood. A simple robe covers 
her breast, and her rich hair is gathered up behind and 
bound with a slender fillet. Her head, of the pure, classical 
mould, is bent forward as if weighed down by the shock, and 
there is a heavy drooping in the mouth and eyelids that de- 
notes a sudden and sickening agony. It is not a violent, 
passionate grief, but a deep and almost paralyzing emotion — 
a shock from which the soul will finally rebound strength- 
ened to make the sacrifice. 

Would it not be better for some scores of our rich mer- 
chants to lay out their money on statues and pictures, in- 
stead of balls and spendthrift sons ? A few such expendi- 
tures, properly directed, would do much for the advance- 
ment of the fine arts. An occasional golden blessing be- 
stowed on genius might be returned on the giver in the 



POWERS. 331 

fame he had assisted in creating. There seems, however, to 
be at present a rapid increase in refined taste and a better 
appreciation of artistic talent in our country, and, as an 
American, nothing has made me feel prouder than this, and 
the steadily increasing reputation of our artists. 

Of these, no one has done more within the last few years 
than Powers. With a tireless and persevering energy such 
as could have belonged to but few Americans he has al- 
ready gained a name in his art that posterity will pronounce 
in the same breath with Phidias, Michael Angelo and Thor- 
waldsen. I cannot describe the enjoyment I have derived 
from looking at his matchless works. I should hesitate in 
giving my own imperfect judgment of their excellence if I 
had not found it to coincide with that of many others who 
are better versed in the rules of art. The sensation which 
his " Greek Slave " produced in England has doubtless ere 
this been breezed across the Atlantic, and I see by the late 
American papers that they are growing familiar with his 
fame. When I read a notice, seven or eight years ago, of 
the young sculptor of Cincinnati whose busts exhibited so 
much evidence of genius, I little dreamed I should meet 
him in Florence with the experience of years of toil added 
to his early enthusiasm and every day increasing his re- 
nown. 

You would like to hear of his statue of Eve, which men 
of taste pronounce one of the finest works of modern times. 
A more perfect figure never filled my eye. I have seen the 
masterpieces of Thorwaldsen, Dannecker and Canova, and 
the Venus de Medici, but I have seen nothing yet that can 
exceed the beauty of this glorious statue. So completely did 
the first view excite my surprise and delight and thrill every 
feeling that awakes at the sight of the Beautiful that my 
mind dwelt intensely on it for days afterward. This is the 
Eve of Scripture, the Eve of Milton — mother of mankind 
and fairest of all her race. With the full and majestic 
beauty of ripened womanhood, she wears the purity of a 



332 



VIEWS A-FOOT. 



world as yet unknown to sin ; with the bearing of a queen, 
there is in her countenance the softness and grace of a ten- 
der, loving woman. 



" God-like erect, with native honor clad 
In naked majesty," 



A 



she holds the fatal fruit extended in her hand, and her face 
expresses the struggle between conscience, dread and desire. 
The serpent, whose coiled length under the leaves and flow- 
ers entirely surrounds her, thus forming a beautiful alle- 
gorical symbol, is watching her decision from an ivied trunk 
at her side. Her form is said to be fully as perfect as the 
Venus de Medici, and, from its greater size, has an air of 
conscious and ennobling dignity. The head is far superior 
in beauty, and soul speaks from every feature of the coun- 
tenance. I add a few stanzas which the contemplation of 
this statue called forth. Though unworthy the subject, 
they may perhaps faintly shadow the sentiment which Pow- 
ers has so eloquently embodied in marble : 

THE "EVE" OF POWEES. 
A faultless being from the marble sprung, 

She stands in beauty there, 
As when the grace of Eden 'round her clung, 

Fairest where all was fair. 
Pure as when first from God's creating hand 

She came on man to shine. 
So seems she now in living stone to stand 

A mortal, yet divine ! 

The spark the Grecian from Olympus caught 

Left not a loftier trace ; 
The daring of the sculptor's hand has wrought 

A soul in that sweet face. 
He won, as well, the sacred fire from heaven— 

God-sent, not stolen down — 
And no Promethean doom for him is given, 

But ages of renown. 



THE "EVE" OF POWEES. 333 

The soul of beauty breathes around that form 

A more enchanting spell ; 
There blooms each virgin grace ere yet the storm 

On blighted Eden fell. 
The first desire upon her lovely brow 

Kaised by an evil power, 
Doubt, longing, dread, are in her features now : 

It is the trial-hour. 

How every thought that strives within her breast 

In that one glance is shown ! 
Say ! Can that heart of marble be at rest, 

Since spirit warms the stone? 
Will not those limbs of so divine a mould 

Move when her thought is o'er — 
When she has yielded to the tempter's hold 

And Eden blooms no more? 

Art like a phoenix springs from dust again : 

She cannot pass away ; 
Bound down in gloom, she breaks apart the chain 

And struggles up to day. 
The flame first kindled in the ages gone 

Has never ceased to burn. 
And westward now appears the kindling dawn 

Which marks the day's return. 

The " Greek Slave " is now in the possession of Mr. Grant 
of London, and I only saw the clay model. Like the Eve, 
it is a form that one's eye tells him is perfect — unsurpassed ; 
but it is the budding loveliness of a girl instead of the per- 
fected beauty of a woman. In England it has been pro- 
nounced superior to Canova's works, and, indeed, I have 
seen nothing of his that could be placed beside it. 

Powers has now nearly finished a most exquisite figure 
of a fisher-boy standing on the shore with his net and rud- 
der in one hand, while with the other he holds a shell to 
his ear and listens if it murmur to him of a gathering 
storm. His slight boyish limbs are full of grace and deli- 
cacy ; you feel that the youthful frame could grow up into 



334 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

notliing less tlian an Apollo. Then the head ! How beau- 
tiful ! Slightly bent on one side, with the rim of the shell 
thrust under his locks, lips gently parted and the face 
wrought up to the most hushed and breathless expression, 
he listens whether the sound be deeper than its wont. It 
makes you hold your breath and listen to look at it. Mrs. 
Jameson somewhere remarks that repose or suspended mo- 
tion should be always chosen for a statue that shall present 
a perfect, unbroken impression to the mind. If this be 
true, the enjoyment must be much more complete where not 
only the motion but almost breath and thought are sus- 
pended and all the faculties wrought into one hushed and 
intense sensation. In gazing on this exquisite conception I 
feel my admiration filled to the utmost without that pain- 
ful, aching impression so often left by beautiful works. It 
glides into my vision like a form long missed from the gal-- 
lery of beauty I am forming in my mind, and I gaze on it 
with an ever-new and increasing delight. 

Now I come to the last and fairest of all — the divine 
Proserpine. Not the form — for it is but a bust rising from 
a capital of acanthus-leaves which curve around the breast 
and arms and turn gracefully outward — but the face, whose 
modest maiden beauty can find no peer among goddesses or 
mortals. So looked she on the field of Ennse — that " fairer 
flower " so soon to be gathered by " gloomy Dis." A slen- 
der crown of green wheat-blades, showing alike her descent 
from Ceres and her virgin years, circles her head. Truly, 
if Pygmalion stole his fire to warm such a form as this, 
Jove should have pardoned him. 

Of Powers's busts it is unnecessary for me to speak. He 
has lately finished a very beautiful one of the princess 
Demidoff, daughter of Jerome Bonaparte. We will soon, 
I hope, have the " Eve " in America. Powers has gener- 
ously refused many advantageous offers for it, that he might 
finally send it home, and his country, therefore, will possess 
this statue — his first ideal work. She may well be prouJ 



VIEW OF THE ALPS. 335 

of the genius and native energy of her young artist, and 
she should repay them by a just and liberal encouragement. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

AN ADVENTURE ON THE GREAT ST. BERNARD. — WALKS 

AROUND FLORENCE. 

Nov. 9. 

A FEW days ago I received a letter from my cousin at 
Heidelberg describing his solitary walk from Genoa over 
the Alps and through the western part of Switzerland. 
The news of his safe arrival dissipated the anxiety we were 
beginning to feel on account of his long silence, while it 
proved that our fears concerning the danger of such a jour- 
ney were not altogether groundless. He met with a start- 
ling adventure on the Great St. Bernard, which will be best 
described by an extract from his own letter : 

'•' Such were my impressions of Rome. But, leaving the 
* Eternal City,' I must hasten on to give you a description 
of an adventure I met with in crossing the Alps, omitting 
for the present an account of the trip from Rome to Genoa 
and my lonely walk through Sardinia. 

" When I had crossed the mountain-range north of 
Genoa, the plains of Piedmont stretched out before me. 
I could see the snowy sides and summits of the Alps, more 
than one hundred miles distant, looking like white, fleecy 
clouds on a summer day. It was a magnificent prospect, 
and I wonder not that the heart of the Swiss soldier, after 
years of absence in foreign service, beats with joy when he 
again looks on his native mountains. As I approached 
nearer the weather changed, and dark, gloomy clouds en- 
veloped them ; so that they seemed to present an impassable 
barrier to the lands beyond them. At Ivrea, I entered 
the interesting valley of Aosta. The whole valley — fifty 



336 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

miles in length — is inhabited by miserable-looking people, 
nearly one-half of them being afflicted with goitre and 
cretinism. They looked more idiotic and disgusting than 
any I have ever seen, and it was really painful to behold 
such miserable specimens of humanity dwelling amid the 
grandest scenes of nature. Immediately after arriving in 
the town of Aosta, situated at the upper end of the valley, 
I began, alone, the ascent of the Great St. Bernard. It 
was just noon, and the clouds on the mountains indicated 
rain. The distance from Aosta to the monastery or hospice 
of St. Bernard is about twenty English miles. 

"At one o'clock it commenced raining very hard, and to 
gain shelter I went into a rude hut ; but it was filled with 
so many of those idiotic cretins, lying down on the earthy 
floor with the dogs and other animals, that I was glad to 
leave them as soon as the storm had abated in some degree. 
I walked rapidly for three hours, when I met a traveller 
and his guide descending the mountain. I asked him in 
Italian the distance to the hospice, and he undertook to an- 
swer me in French, but the words did not seem to flow very 
fluently ; so I said quickly, observing then that he was an 
Englishman, " Try some other language, if you please, sir." 
He replied instantly in his vernacular : " You have a d— d 
long walk before you, and you'll have to hurry to get to 
the top before night." Thanking him, we shook hands and 
hurried on — he downward, and I upward. About eight 
miles from the summit I was directed into the wrong path 
by an ignorant boy who was tending sheep, and went a mile 
out of the course, toward Mont Blanc, before I discovered 
my mistake. I hurried back into the right path again, and 
soon overtook another boy ascending the mountain, who 
asked me if he might accompany me, as he was alone, to 
which I, of course, answered yes ; but when we began to 
enter the thick clouds that covered the mountains, he be- 
came alarmed, and said he would go no farther. I tried to 
encourage him by saying we had only five miles more to 



ASTRAY IN THE SOLITUDES. 337 

climb, but, turning quickly, he ran down the path and was 
soon out of sight. 

"After a long and most toilsome ascent, spurred on as I 
was by the storm and the approach of night, I saw at last 
through the clouds a little house which I supposed might 
be a part of the monastery, but it turned out to be only a 
house of refuge erected by the monks to take in travellers 
in extreme cases or extraordinary danger. The man who 
was staying there told me the monastery was a mile and a 
half farther, and thinking, therefore, that I could soon 
reach it, I started out again, although darkness was ap- 
proaching. In a short time the storm began in good earn- 
est, and the cold winds blew with the greatest fury. It grew 
dark very suddenly, and I lost sight of the poles which are 
placed along the path to guide the traveller. I then ran 
on still higher, hoping to find them again, but without suc- 
cess. The rain and snow fell thick, and, although I think 
I am tolerably courageous, I began to be alarmed, for it 
was impossible to know in what direction I was going. I 
could hear the waterfalls dashing and roaring down the 
mountain-hollows on each side of me ; in the glooin the 
foam and leaping waters resembled streaming fires. I thought 
of turning back to find the little house of refuge again, but 
it seemed quite as dangerous and uncertain as to go forward. 
After the fatigue I had undergone since noon, it would have 
been dangerous to be obliged to stay out all night in the 
driving storm, which was every minute increasing in cold- 
ness and intensity. 

" I stopped and shouted aloud, hoping I might be some- 
where near the monastery, but no answer came, no noise 
except the storm and the roar of the waterfalls. I climbed 
up the rocks nearly a quarter of a mile higher, and shouted 
again. I listened with anxiety for two or three minutes, 
but, hearing no response, I concluded to find a shelter for 
the night under a ledge of rocks. While looking around 
me I fancied I heard in the distance a noise like the tramp- 
22 



338 VIE^yS A-FOOT. 

ling of hoofs over the rocks, and, thinking travellers might 
be near, I called aloud for the third time. After waiting a 
moment, a voice came rmging on my ears through the clouds, 
like one from heaven in response to my ovm. My heart 
beat quickly. I hurried in the direction from which the 
sound came, and to my joy found two men-servants of the 
monastery who were driving their mules into shelter. Never 
in my whole life was I more glad to hear the voice of man. 
These men conducted me to the monastery, one-fourth of a 
mile higher, built by the side of a lake at the summit of 
the pass, while on each side the mountains, for ever covered 
with snow, tower some thousands of feet higher. 

" Two or three of the noble St. Bernard dogs barked a 
welcome as we approached, which brought a young monk 
to the door. I addressed him in German, but, to my sur- 
prise, he answered in broken English. He took me into a 
warm room and gave me a suit of clothes such as are worn 
by the monks, for my dress, as well as my package of pa- 
pers, was completely saturated with rain. I sat down to 
supper in company with all the monks of the hospice, I, in 
my monkish robe, looking like one of the holy order. You 
would have laughed to have seen me in their costume. In- 
deed, I felt almost satisfied to turn monk, as everything 
seemed so comfortable in the warm supper-room, with its 
blazing wood-fire, while outside raged the storm still more 
violently. But when I thought of their voluntary banish- 
ment from the world, up in that high pass of the Alps, and 
that the afiection of woman never gladdened their hearts, I 
was ready to renounce my monkish dress next morning with- 
out reluctance. 

"In the address-book of the monastery I found Long- 
fellow's * Excelsior ' written on a piece of paper and signed 
'America.' You remember the stanza, 

*At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of St. Bernard 



THE POGGIE IMPEKIALE. 339 

Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
A voice cried through the startled air, 

Excelsior 1' 

It seemed to add a tenfold interest to the poem to read it 
on old St. Bernard. In the morning I visited the house 
where are kept the bodies of the travellers who perish in 
crossing the mountain. It is filled with corpses ranged in 
rows and looking like mummies, for the cold is so intense 
that they will keep for years without decaying, and are 
often recognized and removed by their friends. 

" Of my descent to Martigny, my walk down the Rhone 
and along the shores of Lake Leman, my visit to the 
prison of Chillon and other wanderings across Switzerland, 
my pleasure in seeing the old river Rhine again, and my 
return to Heidelberg at night with the bright moon shining 
on the Neckar and the old ruined castle, I can now say no 
more, nor is it necessary ; for are not all these things ' writ- 
ten in my book of Chronicles,' to be seen by you when we 
meet again in Paris ? 

" Ever yours, Frakk." 

Dec. 16. 
I took a walk lately to the tower of Galileo. In com- 
pany with three friends, I left Florence by the Porta 
Romana, and ascended the Poggie Imperiale. This beau- 
tiful avenue, a mile and a quarter in length, leading up a 
gradual ascent to a villa of the grand duke, is bordered 
with splendid cypresses and evergreen oaks, and the grass- 
banks are always fresh and green ; so that even in winter 
it calls up a remembrance of summer. In fact. Winter 
does not wear the scowl here that he has at home ; he ia 
robed rather in a threadbare garment of autumn, and it is 
only high up on the mountain-tops, out of the reach of his 
enemy the sun, that he dares to throw it off and bluster 
about with his storms and scatter down his snowflakes. 




340 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

The roses still bud and bloom in the hedges, the emerald 
of the meadows is not a whit paler, the sun looks down 
lovingly as yet, and there are only the white helmets of 
some of the Apennines, with the leafless mulberries and 
vines, to tell us that we have changed seasons. 

A quarter of an hour's walk, part of it by a path through 
an olive-orchard, brought us to the top of a hill which was 
surmounted by a square broken ivied tower forming 
part of a store-house for the produce of the estate. We 
entered, saluted by a dog, and, passing through a court- 
yard in which stood two or three carts full of brown olives, 
found our way to the rickety staircase. I spared my sen- 
timent in going up, thinking the steps might have been re- 
newed since Galileo's time, but the glorious landscape 
which opened around us when we reached the top time 
could not change, and I gazed upon it with interest and 
emotion as my eye took in those forms which had once 
been mirrored in the philosopher's. Let me endeavor to 
describe the features of the scene. 

Fancy yourself lifted to the summit of a high hill whose 
base slopes down to the valley of the Arno and looking 
northward. Behind you is a confusion of hill and valley, 
growing gradually dimmer away to the horizon. Before and 
below you is a vale with Florence and her great domes and 
towers in its lap, and across its breadth of five miles the 
mountain of Fiesole. To the west it stretches away un- 
broken for twenty miles, covered thickly with white villas, 
like a meadow of daisies magnified. A few miles to the 
east the plain is rounded with mountains between whose in- 
terlocking bases we can see the brown current of the Arno. 
Some of their peaks, as well as the mountain of Vallom- 
brosa, along the eastern sky, are tipped with snow. 
Imagine the air filled with a thick blue mist like a semi- 
transparent veil, which softens everything into dreamy in- 
distinctness, the sunshine falling slantingly through this in 
spots, touching the landscape here and there as with a sud- 



AN UNEEAL SCENE. 341 

den blaze of fire, and you will complete the picture. Does 
it not repay your mental flight across the Atlantic ? 

One evening, on coming out of the ca/^, the moon was 
shining so brightly and clearly that I involuntarily bent my 
steps toward the river. I walked along the Lung' Arno, 
enjoying the heavenly moonlight—" the night of cloudless 
climes and starry skies." A purer silver light never kissed 
the brow of Endymion. The brown Arno took into his 
breast " the redundant glory," and rolled down his pebbly 
bed with a more musical ripple. Opposite stretched the 
long mass of buildings ; the deep arches that rose from the 
water were filled with black shadow and the irregular fronts 
of the houses touched with a mellow glow. The arches of 
the upper bridge were in shadow, cutting their dark out- 
line on the silvery sweep of the Apennines, far up the 
stream. A veil of luminous gray covered the hill of San 
Miniato, with its towers and cypress groves, and there was 
a crystal depth in the atmosphere, as if it shone with its 
own light. The whole scene affected me as something too 
glorious to be real — painful from the very intensity of its 
beauty. Three moons ago, at the foot of Vallombrosa, I 
saw the Apennines flooded with the same silvery gush, and 
thought also then that I had seen the same moon amid far 
dearer scenes, but never before the same dreamy and sub- 
lime glory showered down from her pale orb. Some solitary 
lights were burning along the river, and occasionally a few 
Italians passed by wrapped in their mantles. I went home 
to the Piazza del Granduca as the light pouring into the 
square from behind the old palace fell over the fountain of 
Neptune and sheathed in silver the back of the colossal 
god. 

Whoever looks on the valley of the Arno from San Min- 
iato and observes the Apennine range — of which Fiesole 
is one — bounding it on the north, will immediately notice 
to the north-west a double peak rising high above all the 
others. The bare brown forehead of this — known by the 




342 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

name of Monte Morello — seemed so provokingly to chal- 
lenge an ascent that we determined to try it. So we started 
early the day before yesterday from the Porta San Gallo, 
with nothing but the frosty grass and fresh air to remind _ 
us of the middle of December. Leaving the Prato road, at ™i 
the base of the mountain, we passed Carreggi, a favorite 
farm of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and entered a narrow glen 
where a little brook was brawling down its rocky channel. 
tiere and there stood a rustic mill near which women were 
busy spreading their washed clothes on the grass. Follow- 
ing the footpath, we ascended a long eminence to a chapel 
where some boys were amusing themselves with a common 
country game. They have a small wheel, around which 
they wind a rope, and, running a little distance to increase 
the velocity, let it off with a sudden jerk. On a level road 
it can be thrown upward of a quarter of a mile. 

From the chapel a gradual ascent along the ridge of a 
hill brought us to the foot of the peak, which rose high be- 
fore us, covered with bare rocks and stunted oaks. The 
wind blew coldly from a snowy range to the north as we 
commenced ascending with a good will. A few shepherds 
were leading their flocks along the sides to browse on the 
grass and withered bushes, and we started up a large hare 
occasionally from, his leafy covert. The ascent was very 
toilsome ; I was obliged to stop frequently on account of 
the painful throbbing of my heart which made it difficult to 
breathe. When the summit was gained, we lay down a 
while on the leeward side to recover ourselves. 

We looked on the great valley of the Arno, perhaps 
twenty-five miles long and five or six broad, lying like a 
long elliptical basin sunk among the hills. I can liken it 
to nothing but a vast sea, for a dense blue mist covered the 
level surface, through which the domes of Florence rose up 
like a craggy island, while the thousands of scattered villas 
resembled ships with sj)read sails afloat on its surface. The 
sharp, cutting wind soon drove us down with a few hundred 



PAINFUL EMOTIONS. 343 

bounds to the path again. Three more hungry mortals did 
not dine at the cacciatore that day. 

The chapel of the Medici, which we visited, is of wonder- 
ful beauty. The walls are entirely encrusted with pietra 
dura and the most precious kinds of marble. The ceiling 
is covered with gorgeous frescos by Benevenuto, a modern 
painter. Around the sides, in magnificent sarcophagi of 
marble and jasper, repose the ashes of a few Cosmos and 
Ferdinands. I asked the sacristan for the tomb of Lorenzo 
the Magnificent. " Oh !" said he, " he lived during the re- 
public. He has no tomb ; these are only for dukes." I 
could not repress a sigh at the lavish waste of labor and 
treasure on this one princely chapel. They might have 
slumbered unnoted, like Lorenzo, if they had done as much 
for their country and Italy. 

Dec. 19. 

It is with a heavy heart that I sit down to-night to make 
my closing note in this lovely city, and in the journal which 
has recorded my thoughts and impressions since leaving 
America. I should find it diflScult to analyze my emotions, 
but I know that they oppress me painfully. So much 
rushes at once over the mind and heart — memories of what 
has passed through both since I made the first note in its 
pages, alternations of hope and anxiety and aspiration, but 
never despondency — that it resembles, in a manner, the 
closing of a life. I seem almost to have lived through the 
common term of a life in this short period. Much spiritual 
and mental experience has crowded into a short time the 
sensations of years. Painful though some of it has been, it 
was still welcome. Difficulty and toil give the soul strength 
to crush in a loftier region the passions which draw strength 
only from the earth. So long as we listen to the purer prompt- 
ings within us there is a Power invisible, though not unfelt, 
who protects us ; amid the toil and tumult and soiling strug- 
gle there is ever an eye that watches, ever a heart that 
overflows with infinite and almighty love. Let us trust, 



344 VIEWS A-FOOT. 



then, ill that eternal Spirit who pours out on us his warm 
and boundless blessings through the channels of so many- 
kindred human hearts. 



^i 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

WINTER-TRAVELLING AMONG THE APENNINES. 

Valley of the Arno, Dec. 22. 

It is a glorious morning after our two days' walk through 
rain and mud among these stormy Apennines. The range 
of high peaks among which is the celebrated monastery of 
Camaldoli lie just before us, their summits dazzling with 
the new-fallen snow. The clouds are breaking away, and 
a few rosy flushes announce the approach of the sun. It 
has rained during the night, and the fields are as green and 
fresh as on a morning in spring. 

We left Florence on the 20th while citizens and strangers 
were vainly striving to catch a glimpse of the emperor of 
Russia. He is, from some cause, very shy of being seen in 
his journeys from place to place, using the greatest art and 
diligence to prevent the time of his departure and arrival 
from being known. On taking leave of Powers, I found 
him expecting the autocrat, as he had signified his intention 
of visiting his studio ; it was a cause of patriotic pride to 
find that crowned heads know and appreciate the genius of 
our sculptor. 

The sky did not promise much as we set out ; when we 
had entered the Apennines and taken a last look of the 
lovely valley behind us and the great dome of the city 
where we had spent four delightful months, it began to rain 
heavily. Determined to conquer the weather at the begin- 
ning, we kept on, although before many miles were passed 
it became too penetrating to be agreeable. The mountains 



OBJECTS OF CUEIOSITY. 346 

grew nearly black under the shadow of the clouds, and the 
storms swept drearily down their passes and defiles, till the 
scenery looked more like the Hartz than Italy. We were 
obliged to stop at Ponte Sieve and dry our saturated gar- 
ments, when, as the rain slackened somewhat, we rounded 
the foot of the mountain of Vallombrosa, above the swollen 
and noisy Arno, to the little village of Cucina. 

We entered the only inn in the place followed by a crowd 
of wondering boys, for two such travellers had probably 
never been seen there. They made a blazing fire for us in 
the broad chimney, and after the police of the place satis- 
fied themselves that we were not dangerous characters they 
asked many questions about our country. I excited the 
sympathy of the women greatly in our behalf by telling 
them we had three thousand miles of sea between us and 
our homes. They exclaimed in the most sympathizing 
tones, "Poverini ! so far to go ! Three thousand miles of 
water !" 

The next morning we followed the right bank of the Arno. 
At Incisa, a large town on the river, the narrow pass broad- 
ens into a large and fertile plain bordered on the north by 
the mountains. The snow-storms were sweeping around 
their summits the whole day, and I thought of the desolate 
situation of the good monks who had so hospitably enter- 
tained us three months before. It was weary travelling, 
but at Levane our fatigues were soon forgotten. Two or 
three peasants were sitting last night beside the blazing fire, 
and we were amused to hear them talking about us. I over- 
heard one asking another to converse with us a while. 
" Why should I speak to them ?" said he. " They are not 
of our profession. We are swineherds, and they do not care 
to talk with us." However, his curiosity prevailed at last, 
and we had a long conversation together. It seemed difii- 
cult for them to comprehend how there could be so much 
water to cross, without any land, before reaching our coun- 
try. Finding we were going to Rome, I overheard one re- 



346 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

mark we were pilgrims, which seemed to be the general sup- 
position, as there are few foot-travellers in Italy. The peo- 
ple said to one another as we passed along the road, " They 
are making a journey of penance." These peasants ex- 
pressed themselves very well for persons of their station, 
but they were remarkably ignorant of everything beyond 
their own olive-orchards and vine-fields. 

Perugia, Dec. 24. 

On leaving Levane the morning gave a promise and the 
sun winked at us once or twice through the broken clouds 
with a watery eye, but our cup was not yet full. After cross- 
ing one or two shoulders of the range of hills, we descended 
to the great upland plain of Central Italy, watered by the 
sources of the Arno and the Tiber. The scenery is of a 
remarkable character. The hills appear to have been 
washed and swept by some mighty flood. They are worn 
into every shape — pyramids, castles, towers — standing deso- 
late and brown in long ranges, like the ruins of mountains. 
The plain is scarred with deep gullies, adding to the look of 
decay which accords so well with the Cyclopean relics of 
the country. 

A storm of hail which rolled away before us disclosed the 
city of Arezzo on a hill at the other end of the plain', its 
heavy cathedral crowning the pyramidal mass of buildings. 
Our first care was to find a good trattoria, for hunger spoke 
louder than sentiment, and then we sought the house where 
Petrarch was born. A young priest showed it to us, on the 
summit of the hill. It has not been changed since he lived 
in it. 

On leaving Florence we determined to pursue the same 
plan as in Germany, of stopping at the inns frequented by 
the common people. They treated us here, as elsewhere, 
with great kindness and sympathy, and we w^ere freed from 
the outrageous impositions practised at the greater hotels. 
They always built a large fire to dry us after our day's walk 



AT CORTONA. 347 

in the rain, and, placing chairs in the hearth, which was 
raised several feet above the floor, stationed us there, like the 
giants Gog and Magog, while the children, assembled below, 
gazed up in open-mouthed wonder at our elevated greatness. 
They even invited us to share their simple meals with them, 
and it was amusing to hear their good-hearted exclamations 
of pity at finding we were so far from home. We slept in 
the great beds (for the most of the Italian beds are calcu- 
lated for a man, wife and four children) without fear of be- 
ing assassinated, and only met with banditti in dreams. 

This is a very unfavorable time of the year for foot-trav- 
elling. We were obliged to wait three or four weeks in 
Florence for a remittance from America, which not only 
prevented our leaving as soon as was desirable, but by the 
additional expense of living left us much smaller means 
than we required. However, through the kindness of 
a generous countryman who unhesitatingly loaned us a 
considerable sum, we were enabled to start with thirty dol- 
lars each, which with care and economy will be quite suffi- 
cient to take us to Paris by way of Rome and Naples, if 
these storms do not prevent us from walking. Greece and 
the Orient, which I so ardently hoped to visit, are now out 
of the question. We walked till noon to-day over the Val 
di Chiana to Camuscia, the last post-station in the Tuscan 
dominions. On a mountain near it is the city of Cortona, 
still enclosed within its cyclopean walls, built long before 
the foundation of Rome. Here our patience gave way, 
melted down by the unremitting rains, and while eating 
dinner we made a bargain for a vehicle to bring us to this 
city. We gave a little more than half of what the veUurino 
demanded, which was still an exorbitant price — two scudi 
each for a ride of thirty miles. 

In a short time we were called to take our seats. I be- 
held with consternation a rickety, uncovered, two-wheeled 
vehicle to which a single lean horse was attached. "What !" 
said I ; "is that the carriage you promised ?" — " You bar- 



348 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

gained for a calesino" said he, " and there it is," adding, 
moreover, that there was nothing else in the place. So we 
clambered up, thrust our feet among the hay, and the ma- 
chine rolled off with a kind of saw-mill motion at the rate 
of five miles an hour. 

Soon after, in ascending the mountain of the Spelunca, 
a sheet of blue water was revealed below us — ^the Lake of 
Thrasymene. From the eminence around which we drove 
we looked on the whole of its broad surface and the moun- 
tains which encompass it. It is a magnificent sheet of 
water, in size and shape somewhat like New York Bay, but 
the heights around it are far higher than the hills of Jersey 
or Staten Island. Three beautiful islands lie in it, near the 
eastern shore. 

While our calesino was stopped at the papal custom- 
house, I gazed on the memorable field below us. A cres- 
cent plain between the mountain and the lake was the arena 
where two mighty empires met in combat. The place seems 
marked by nature for the scene of some great event. I ex- 
perienced a thrilling emotion such as no battle-plain has 
excited since, when a schoolboy, I rambled over the field 
of Brandywine. I looked through the long arcades of pa- 
triarchal olives, and tried to cover the field with the shad- 
ows of the Roman and Carthaginian myriads. I recalled 
the shock of meeting legions, the clash of swords and buck- 
lers and the waving standards amid the dust of battle, 
while stood on the mountain-amphitheatre, trembling and 
invisible, the protecting deities of Rome. 

" Far other scene is Thrasymene now !" 

We rode over the plain, passed through the dark old 
town of Passignano, built on a rocky point by the lake, and 
dashed along the shore. A dark, stormy sky bent over us, 
and the roused waves broke in foam on the rocks. The 
winds whistled among the bare oak-boughs and shook the 



NOCTUKNAL TKAVELLING. 349 

olives till they twinkled all over. The vetturino whipped 
our old horse into a gallop, and we were borne on in unison 
with the scene, which would have answered for one of Hoff- 
man's wildest stories. 

Ascending a long hill, we took a last look in the dusk at 
Thrasymene, and continued our journey among the Apen- 
nines. The vetturino was to have changed horses at Mag- 
ione, thirteen miles from Perugia, but there were none to 
be had, and our poor beast was obliged to perform the 
whole journey without rest or food. It grew very dark, 
and a storm, with thunder and lightning, swept among the 
hills. The clouds were of pitchy darkness, and we could 
see nothing beyond the road except the lights of peasant- 
cottages trembling through the gloom. Now and then a 
flash of lightning revealed the black masses of the moun- 
tains, on which the solid sky seemed to rest. The wind and 
cold rain swept wailing past us, as if an evil spirit were 
abroad on the darkness. Three hours of such nocturnal 
travel brought us here, wet and chilly, as well as our driver, 
but I pitied the poor horse more than him. 

When we looked out the window on awaking, the clus- 
tered housetops of the city and the summits of the moun- 
tains near were covered with snow. But on walking to the 
battlements we saw that the valleys below were green and 
untouched. Perugia for its " pride of place " must endure 
the storms, while the humbler villages below escape them. 
As the rain continues, we have taken seats in a country dil- 
igence for Foligno, and shall depart in a few minutes. 

December 28. 
We left Perugia in a close but covered vehicle, and, de- 
scending the mountain, crossed the muddy and rapid Tiber 
in the valley below. All day we rode slowly among the 
hills ; where the ascent was steep two or four large oxen 
were hitched before the horses. I saw little of the scenery, 
for our Italian companions would not bear the windows 



350 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

open. Once, when we stopped, I got out, and found we 
were in the region of snow at the foot of a stormy peak 
which towered sublimely above. At dusk we entered Fo- 
ligno and were driven to the Croce Bianca, glad to be thirty 
miles farther on our way to Rome. 

After some discussion with a vetturino who was to leave 
next morning, we made a contract with him for the re' 
mainder of the journey, for the rain, which fell in torrents, 
forbade all thought of pedestrianism. At five o'clock we 
rattled out of the gate, and drove by the waning moon and 
morning starlight down the vale of the Clitumnus. As the 
dawn stole on I watched eagerly the features of the scene. 
Instead of a narrow glen, as my fancy had pictured, we 
were in a valley several miles broad covered with rich 
orchards and fertile fields. A glorious range of mountains 
bordered it on the north, looking like Alps in their winter 
garments. A rosy flush stole over the snow, which kindled 
with the growing morn, till they shone like clouds that float 
in the sunrise. The Clitumnus, beside us, was the purest 
of streams. The heavy rains which had fallen had not 
soiled in the least its limpid crystal. 

When it grew light enough, I looked at our companions 
for the three days' journey. The two other inside seats 
were occupied by a tradesman of Trieste, with his wife and 
child ; an old soldier, and a young dragoon going to visit 
his parents after seven years' absence, occupied the front 
part. Persons travelling together in a carriage are not 
long in becoming acquainted : close companionship soon 
breeds familiarity. Before night I had made a fast friend 
of the young soldier, learned to bear the perverse humor 
of the child with as much patience as its father, and even 
drawn looks of grim kindness from the crusty old vetturino. 

Our midday resting-place was Spoleto. As there were 
two hours given us, we took a ramble through the city, vis- 
ited the ruins of its Roman theatre and saw the gate 
erected to commemorate the victory gained here over Han- 



ROBBEES' DENS. 351 

nibal which stopped his triumphal march toward Rome. 
A great part of the afternoon was spent in ascending 
among the defiles of Monte Somma, the highest pass on the 
road between Ancona and Rome. Assisted by two yoke of 
oxen, we slowly toiled up through the snow, the mountains 
on both sides covered with thickets of box and evergreen 
oaks among whose leafy screens the banditti hide them- 
selves. It is not considered dangerous at present, but, as 
the dragoons who used to patrol this pass have been sent 
off to Bologna to keep down the rebellion, the robbers will 
probably return to their old haunts again. We saw many 
suspicious-looking coverts where they might have hidden. 

We slept at Terni, and did not see the falls — not exactly 
on Wordsworth's principle of leaving Yarrow " unvisited," 
but because, under the circumstances, it was impossible. 
The vetturino did not arrive there till after dark ; he was 
to leave before dawn ; the distance was five miles and the 
roads very bad. Besides, we had seen falls quite as grand 
which needed only a Byron to make them as renowned ; 
we had been told that those of Tivoli, which we shall see, 
were equally fine ; the Velino, which we crossed near Terni, 
was not a large stream ; in short, we hunted as many rea- 
sons as we could find why the falls need not be seen. 

Leaving Terni before day, we drove up the long vale 
toward Narni. The roads were frozen hard; the ascent 
becoming more difficult, the vetturino was obliged to stop 
at a farmhouse and get another pair of horses, with which, 
and a handsome young contadino as postilion, we reached 
Narni in a short time. In climbing the hill we had a view 
of the whole valley of Terni, shut in on all sides by snow- 
crested Apennines and threaded by the Nar, whose waters 
flow, " with many windings, through the vale !" 

At Otricoli, while dinner was preparing, I walked around 
the crumbling battlements to look down into the valley and 
trace the far windings of the Tiber. In rambling through 
the crooked streets we saw everywhere the remains of the 




352 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

splendor which this place boasted in the days of Roma 
Fragments of fluted pillars stood here and there in the 
streets ; large blocks of marble covered with sculpture and 
inscriptions were built into the houses, defaced statues used 
as door-ornaments, and the stepping-stone to our rude inn, 
worn every day by the feet of grooms and vetturini, con- 
tained some letters of an inscription which may have re- 
corded the glory of an emperor. 

Travelling with a vetturino is unquestionably the pleas- 
antest way of seeing Italy. The easy rate of the journey 
allows time for becoming well acquainted with the country, 
and the tourist is freed from the annoyance of quarrelling 
with cheating landlords. A translation of our written con- 
tract will best explain this mode of travelling : 

" Carriage for Rome. 

" Our contract is to be conducted to Rome for the sum of 
twenty francs each, say 20f. and the huona mano, if we are 
well served. We must have from the vetturino Giuseppe 
Nerpiti supper each night, a free chamber with two beds 
and fire until we shall arrive at Rome. 

" I, Geronymo Sartarelli, steward of the inn of the White 
Cross, at Foligno, in testimony of the above contract." 

Beyond Otricoli we passed through some relics of an age 
anterior to Rome. A few soiled masses of masonry black 
with age stood along the brow of the mountain, on whose 
extremity were the ruins of a castle of the Middle Ages. 
We crossed the Tiber on a bridge built by Augustus Caesar, 
and reached Borghetto as the sun was gilding with its last 
rays the ruined citadel above. As the carriage with its 
four horses was toiling slowly up the hill we got out and 
walked before, to gaze on the green meadows of the Tiber. 

On descending from Narni, I noticed a high, prominent 
mountain whose ridgy back, somewhat like the profile of a 
face, reminded me of the Traunstein, in Upper Austria. 



THE KOMAN CAMPAGNA. 353 

As we approached, its form gradually changed, until it 
stood on the Campagna 

" Like a long-swept wave about to break, 
That on the curl liangs pausing," 

and by that token of a great bard I recognized Monte So- 
racte. The dragoon took us by the arms, and away we 
scampered over the Campagna, with one of the loveliest 
sunsets before us that ever painted itself on my retina. I 
cannot portray in words the glory that flooded the whole 
western heaven. It was like a sea of melted ruby, amethyst, 
and topaz, deep, dazzling and of crystal transparency. The 
color changed in tone every few minutes, till in half an 
hour it sank away before the twilight to a belt of deep 
orange along the west. 

We left Civita Castellana before daylight. The sky was 
red with dawn as we approached Nepi, and we got out to 
walk in the clear, frosty air. A magnificent Roman aque- 
duct, part of it a double row of arches, still supplies the 
town with water. There is a deep ravine, appearing as if 
rent in the ground by some convulsion, on the eastern side 
of the city. A clear stream that steals through the arches 
of the aqueduct falls in a cascade of sixty feet down into 
the chasm, sending up constant wreaths of spray through 
the evergreen foliage that clothes the rocks. In walking 
over the desolate Campagna we saw many deep chambers 
dug in the earth, used by the charcoal-burners ; the air was 
filled with sulphurous exhalations very offensive to the 
smell, which rose from the ground in many places. 

Miles and miles of the dreary waste covered only with 
flocks of grazing sheep were passed, and about noon we 
reached Baccano, a small post-station twenty miles from 
Rome. A long hill rose before us, and we sprang out of 
the carriage and ran ahead to see Rome from its summit. 
As we approached the top the Campagna spread far before 
and around us, level and blue as an ocean, I climbed up 

23 



354 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

a high bank by the roadside, and the whole scene came in 
view. Perhaps eighteen miles distant rose the dome of St. 
Peter's, near the horizon, a small spot on the vast plain. 
Beyond it, and farther east, were the mountains of Albano, 
on our left Soracte and the Apennines, and a blue line along 
the west betrayed the Mediterranean. There was nothing 
peculiarly beautiful or sublime in the landscape, but few 
other scenes on earth combine in one glance such a myriad of 
mighty associations or bewilder the mind with such a crowd 
of confused emotions. 

As we approached Rome the dragoon with whom we had 
been walking all day became anxious and impatient. He 
had not heard from his pai-ents for a long time, and knew 
not if they were living. His desire to be at the end of his 
journey finally became so great that he hailed a peasant 
who was driving by in a light vehicle, left our slow carriage 
and went out of sight in a gallop. 

As we descended to the Tiber in the dusk of evening the 
domes and spires of Rome came gradually into view, St. 
Peter's standing like a mountain in the midst of them. 
Crossing the yellow river by the Ponte Molle, two miles of 
road straight as an arrow lay before us, with the light of 
the Porta del Popolo at the end. I felt strangely excited 
as the old vehicle rumbled through the arch and we entered 
a square with fountains and an obelisk of Egyptian granite 
in the centre. Delivering up our passports, we waited until 
the necessary examinations were made, and then went for- 
ward. Three streets branch out from the square, the mid- 
dle one of which, leading directly to the Capitol, is the 
Corso — the Roman Broadway. Our vetturino chose that to 
the left, the Via della Scrofa, leading off toward the bridge 
of St. Angelo. I looked out the windows as we drove along, 
but saw nothing except butcher-shops, grocer-stores, etc. — 
horrible objects for a sentimental traveller. 

Being emptied out on the pavement at last, our first care 
was to find rooms. After searching through many streets 



EOME. 355 

with a coarse old Italian wlio spoke like an angel, we ar- 
rived at a square where the music of a fountain was heard 
through the dusk and an obelisk cut out some of the 
starlight. At the other end I saw a portico through the 
darkness, and my heart gave a breathless bound on recog- 
nizing the Pantheon, the matchless temple of ancient Rome. 
And now, while I am writing, I hear the gush of the 
fountain ; and if I step to the window, I see the time-worn 
but still glorious edifice. 

On returning for our baggage we met the funeral proceS' 
sion of the princess Altieri. Priests in white and gold carried 
flaming torches, and the cofiin, covered with a magnificent 
golden pall, was borne in a splendid hearse guarded by four 
priests. As we were settling our account with the vetturino, 
who demanded much more huona mano than we were willing 
to give, the young dragoon returned. He was greatly 
agitated. " I have been at home," said he, in a voice 
trembling with emotion. I was about to ask him further 
concerning his family, but he kissed and embraced us 
warmly and hurriedly, saying he had only come to say 
"Addio " and to leave us. 

I stop writing to ramble through Rome. This city of all 
cities to me — this dream of my boyhood, giant, god-like, 
fallen Rome — is around me, and I revel in a glow of antici- 
pation and exciting thought that seems to change my whole 
state of being. 



CHAPTER XL. 

ROME, 



Dec. 29, 

One day's walk through Rome ! Ho\\ shall I describe 
it ? The Capitol, the Forum, St. Peter's, the Coliseum — 
what few hours' ramble ever took in places se hallowed by 



356 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

poetry, history and art ? It was a golden leaf in my cal- 
endar of life. In thinking over it now, and drawing out 
the threads of recollection from the varied woof of thought 
I have woven to-day, I almost wonder how I dared so much 
at once ; but, within reach of them all, how was it possible 
to wait ? Let me give a sketch of our day's ramble. 

Hearing that it was better to visit the ruins by evening 
or moonlight (alas ! there is no moon now), we started out 
to hunt St. Peter's. Going in the direction of the Corso, 
we passed the ruined front of the magnificent temple of 
Antoninus, now used as the papal custom-house. We turned 
to the right on entering the Corso, expecting to have a view 
of the city from the hill at its southern end. It is a mag- 
nificent street, lined with palaces and splendid edifices of 
every kind and always filled with crowds of carriages and 
people. On leaving it, however, we became bewildered 
among the narrow streets, passed through a market of veg- 
etables crowded with beggars and contadini, threaded many 
by-ways between dark old buildings, saw one or two antique 
fountains and many modern churches, and finally arrived 
at a hill. 

We ascended many steps, and then, descending a little 
toward the other side, saw suddenly below us the Koman 
Forum. I knew it at once. And those three Corinthian 
columns that stood near us : what could they be but the re- 
mains of the temple of Jupiter Stator ? We stood on the 
Capitoline Hill. At the foot was the Arch of Septimus 
Severus, brown with age and shattered ; near it stood the 
majestic front of the temple of Fortune, its pillars of pol- 
ished granite glistening in the sun, as if they had been 
erected yesterday ; while on the left the rank grass was 
waving from the arches and mighty walls of the palace of 
the Caesars. In front ruin upon ruin lined the way for 
half a mile, where the Coliseum towered grandly through 
the blue morning mist at the base of the Esquiline Hill. 

Good heavens, what a scene! Grandeur such as the 



THE COLUMN OF TRAJAN. 357 

world never saw once rose through that blue atmosphere ; 
splendor inconceivable, the spoils of a world, the triumphs 
of a thousand armies, had passed over that earth ; minds 
which for ages moved the ancient world had thought there, 
and words of power and glory from the lips of immortal 
men had been syllabled on that hallowed air. To call back 
all this on the very spot, while the wreck of what once was 
rose mouldering and desolate around, aroused a sublimity 
of thought and feeling too powerful for words. 

Keturning at hazard through the streets, we came sud- 
denly upon the Column of Trajan, standing in an excavated 
square below the level of the city, amid a number of bro- 
ken granite columns which formed part of the Forum ded- 
icated to him by Rome after the conquest of Dacia. The 
column is one hundred and thirty-two feet high and entirely 
covered with bas-reliefs representing his victories, winding 
about it in a spiral line to the top. The number of figures 
is computed at two thousand five hundred, and they were 
of such excellence that Raphael used many of them for his 
models. They are now much defaced, and the column is 
surmounted by a statue of some saint. The inscription on 
the pedestal has been erased, and the name of Sixtus V. 
substituted. Nothing can exceed the ridiculous vanity of 
the old popes in thus mutilating the finest monuments of 
ancient art. You cannot look upon any relic of antiquity 
in Rome but your eyes are assailed by the words " Pontifex 
Maximus," in staring modern letters. Even the magnifi- 
cent bronzes of the Pantheon were stripped to make the 
baldachin under the dome of St. Peter's. 

Finding our way back again, we took a fresh start — hap- 
pily, in the right direction — and after walking some time 
came out on the Tiber at the bridge of St. Angelo. The 
river rolled below in his muddy glory, and in front, on the 
opposite bank, stood " the pile which Hadrian reared on 
high," now the castle of St. Angelo. Knowing that St. 
Peter's was to be seen from this bridge, I looked about in 




358 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

search of it. There was only one dome in sight, large and 
of beautiful proportions. I said at once, " Surely that can- jli 
not be St. Peter's ?" On looking again, however, I saw the 
top of a massive range of buildings near it which corre- 
sponded so nearly with the pictures of the Vatican that I 
was unwillingly forced to believe the mighty dome was 
really before me. I recognized it as one of those we saw 
from the Capitol, but it appeared so much smaller when 
viewed from a greater distance that I was quite deceived. 
On considering we were still three-fourths of a mile from 
U, and that we could see its minutest parts distinctly, the 
illusion was explained. 

Going directly down the Borgo Vecchio toward it, it 
seemed a long time before we arrived at the square of St. 
Peter's. When at length we stood in front with the ma- 
jestic colonnade sweeping around, the fountains on each side 
sending up their showers of silvery spray, the mighty obelisk 
of Egyptian granite piercing the sky, and beyond the great 
front and dome of the cathedral, I confessed my unmingled 
admiration. It recalled to my mind the grandeur of an- 
cient Rome, and, mighty as her edifices must have been, 
I doubt if there were many views more overpowering than 
this. The fayade of St. Peter's seemed close to us, but it 
was a third of a mile distant, and the people ascending the 
steps dwindled to pigmies. 

I passed the obelisk, went up the long ascent, crossed the 
portico, pushed aside the heavy leathern curtain at the en- 
trance, and stood in the great nave. I need not describe 
my feelings at the sight, but I will tell the dimensions, and 
you may then fancy what they were. Before me was a 
marble plain six hundred feet long, and under the cross 
four hundred and seventeen feet wide. One hundred and 
fifty feet above sprang a glorious arch dazzling with inlaid 
gold, and in the centre of the cross there were four hundred 
feet of air between me and the top of the dome. The sun- 
beam, stealing through the lofty window at one end of the 



THE VATICAN. 359 

transept, made a bar of light on the blue air, hazy with in- 
cense, one-tenth of a mile long, before it fell on the mosaics 
and gilded shrines of the other extremity. The grand 
cupola alone, including lantern and cross, is two hundred 
and eighty-five feet high, or sixty feet higher than the Bun- 
ker Hill Monument, and the four immense pillars on which 
it rests are each one hundred and thirty-seven feet in cir- 
cumference. It seems as if human art had outdone itself 
in producing this temple — the grandest which the world 
ever erected for the worship of the living God. The awe 
felt in looking up at the giant arch of marble and gold did 
not humble me ; on the contrary, I felt exalted, ennobled. 
Beings in the form I wore planned the glorious edifice, and 
it seemed that in godlike power and perseverance they were 
indeed but " a little lower than the angels." I felt that, if 
fallen, my race was still mighty and immortal. 

The Vatican is only open twice a week on days which 
are not festas ; most fortunately, to-day happened to be one 
of these, and we took a run through its endless halls. The 
extent and magnificence of the gallery of sculpture is per- 
fectly amazing. The halls, which are filled to overflowing 
with the finest works of ancient art, would, if placed side 
by side, make a row more than two miles in length. You 
enter at once into a hall of marble, with a magnificent 
arched ceiling, a third of a mile long ; the sides are covered 
for a great distance with inscriptions of every kind, divided 
into compartments according to the era of the empire to 
which they refer. One which I examined appeared to be 
a kind of index of the roads in Italy, with the towns on 
them, and we could decipher on that time-worn block the 
very route I had followed from Florence hither. 

Then came the statues, and here I am bewildered how to 
describe them. Hundreds upon hundreds of figures — statues 
of citizens, generals, emperors and gods, fauns, satyrs and 
nymphs, children, cupids and tritons ; in fact, it seemed in- 
exhaustible. Many of them, too, were forms of matchless 




360 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

beauty. There were Venuses and nymphs born of the loiS- 
iest dreams of grace ; fauns on whose faces shone the very 
soul of humor, and heroes and divinities with an air of maj- 
esty worthy the " land of lost gods and godlike men." 

I am lost in astonishment at the perfection of art attained 
by the Greeks and Komans. There is scarcely a form of 
beauty that has ever met my eye which is not to be found 
in this gallery. I should almost despair of such another 
blaze of glory on the world were it not my devout belief 
that what has been done may be done again, and had I not 
faith that the dawn in which we live will bring another day 
equally glorious. And why should not America, with the 
experience and added wisdom which three thousand years 
have slowly yielded to the Old World, joined to the giant 
energy of her youth and freedom, rebestow on the world 
the divine creations of art ? Let Powers answer ! 

But let us step on to the hemicycle of the Belvidere and 
view some works greater than any we have yet seen, or even 
imagined. The adjoining gallery is filled with masterpieces 
of sculpture, but we will keep our eyes unwearied and merely 
glance along the rows. At length we reach a circular court 
with a fountain flinging up its waters in the centre. Before 
us is an open cabinet ; there is a beautiful manly form 
within, but you would not for an instant take it for the 
Apollo. By the Gorgon head it holds aloft we recognize 
Canova's Perseus ; he has copied the form and attitude of 
the Apollo, but he could not breathe into it the same warm- 
ing fire. It seemed to me particularly lifeless, and I greatly 
preferred his Boxers, who stand on either side of it. One, 
who has drawn back in the attitude of striking, looks as if 
he could fell an ox with a single blow of his powerful arm. 
The other is a more lithe and agile figure, and there is a 
quick fire in his countenance which might overbalance the 
massive strength of his opponent. 

Another cabinet. This is the far-famed Antinous — a 
countenance of perfect Grecian beauty, with a form such 



THE LAOCOON AND THE APOLLO. 361 

as we would im-agine for one of Homer's heroes. His feat- 
ures are in repose, and there is something in their calm set- 
tled expression strikingly like life. 

Now we look on a scene of the deepest physical agony. 
Mark how every muscle of old Laocoon's body is distended 
to the utmost in the mighty struggle ! What intensity of 
pain in the quivering, distorted features ! Every nerve 
which despair can call into action is excited in one giant 
effort, and a scream of anguish seems just to have quivered 
on those marble lips. The serpents have rolled their strang- 
ling coils around father and sons, but terror has taken away 
the strength of the latter, and they make but feeble resist- 
ance. After looking with indifference on the many casts of 
this group, I was the more moved by the magnificent origi- 
nal. It deserves all the admiration that has been heaped 
upon it. 

I absolutely trembled on approaching the cabinet of the 
Apollo. I had built up in fancy a glorious ideal drawn 
from all that bards have sung or artists have rhapsodized 
about its divine beauty. I feared disappointment ; I dread- 
ed to have my ideal displaced and my faith in the power 
of human genius overthrown by a form less than perfect. 
However, with a feeling of desperate excitement, I entered 
and looked upon it. 

Now, what shall I say of it ? How make you comprehend 
its immortal beauty ? To what shall I liken its glorious 
perfection of form or the fire that imbues the cold marble 
with the soul of a god ? Not with sculpture — for it stands 
alone and above all other works of art — nor with men, for 
it has a majesty more than human. I gazed on it lost in 
wonder and joy — joy that I could at last take into my mind 
a faultless ideal of godlike, exalted manhood. The figure 
appears actually to possess a spirit, and I looked on it, not 
as on a piece of marble, but a being of loftier mould, and 
half expected to see him step forward when the arrow had 
reached its mark. I would give worlds to feel one moment 



362 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the sculptor's mental triumph when his work was completed ; 
that one exulting thrill must have repaid him for every ill 
he might have suffered on earth. With what divine in- 
spiration has he wrought its faultless lines! There is a 
spirit in every limb which mere toil could not have given. 
It must have been caught in those lofty moments 

" When each conception was a heavenly guest, 
A ray of immortality, and stood 
Star-like around until they gathered to a god." 

We ran through a series of halls roofed with golden stars 
on a deep-blue midnight sky, and filled with porphyry vases, 
black marble gods and mummies. Some of the statues 
shone with the matchless polish they had received from a 
Theban artisan before Athens was founded, and are, appar- 
ently, as fresh and perfect as when looked upon by the vas- 
sals of Sesostris. Notwithstanding their stiff, rough-hewn 
limbs, there were some figures of great beauty, and they 
gave me a much higher idea of Egyptian sculpture. In an 
adjoining hall containing colossal busts of the gods is a 
vase forty-one feet in circumference, of one solid block of 
red porphyry. 

The " Transfiguration " is truly called the first picture in 
the world. The same glow of inspiration which created the 
Belvidere must have been required to paint the Saviour's 
aerial form. The three figures hover above the earth in a 
blaze of glory, seemingly independent of all material laws. 
The terrified apostles on the mount, and the wondering 
group below, correspond in the grandeur of their expression 
to the awe and majesty of the scene. The only blemish in 
the sublime perfection of the picture is the introduction of 
the two small figures on the left hand — who, by the bye, 
were cardinals inserted there by command. Some travellers 
say the color is all lost, but I was agreeably surprised to 
find it well preserved. It is undoubtedly somewhat imper- 
fet^t <n this respect, as Raphael died before it was entirely 



NEW YEAR'S IN EOME. 363 

finished, but, " take it all in all," you may search the world 
in vain to find its equal. 

January 1, 1846. 

New Year's day in the Eternal City ! It will be some- 
thing to say in after-years that I have seen one year open 
in Rome — that while my distant friends were making up 
for the winter without with good cheer around the merry 
board I have walked in sunshine by the ruins of the Coli- 
seum, watched the orange-groves gleaming with golden 
fruitage in the Farnese gardens, trodden the daisied meadow 
around the sepulchre of Caius Cestius and mused by the 
graves of Shelley, Keats and Salvator Rosa. The palace 
of the Caesars looked even more mournful in the pale, slant 
sunshine, and the yellow Tiber, as he flowed through the 
" marble wilderness," seemed sullenly counting up the long 
centuries during which degenerate slaves have trodden his 
banks. A leaden-colored haze clothed the seven hills and 
heavy silence reigned among the ruins, for all work was 
prohibited and the people were gathered in their churches. 
Rome never appeared so desolate and melancholy as to-day. 

In the morning I climbed the Quirinal Hill, now called 
Monte Cavallo, from the colossal statues of Castor and 
Pollux, with their steeds, supposed to be the work of Phidias 
and Praxiteles. They stand on each side of an obelisk of 
Egyptian granite, beside which a strong stream of water 
gushes up into a magnificent bronze basin found in the 
old Forum. The statues, entirely browned by age, are con- 
sidered masterpieces of Grecian art, and, whether or not 
from the great masters, show in all their proportions the 
conceptions of lofty genius. 

We kept on our way between gardens filled with orange- 
groves whose glowing fruit reminded me of Mignon's beau- 
tiful reminiscence : " Im dunkeln Laub die Gold Orangen 
gliihn." Rome, although subject to cold winds from the 
Apennines, enjoys so mild a climate that oranges and palm 
trees grow in the open air without protection. Daisies and 



364 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

violets bloom the whole winter in the meadows of never- 
fading green. The basilica of the Lateran equals St. Peter's 
in splendor, though its size is much smaller. The walls are 
covered with gorgeous hangings of velvet embroidered 
with gold, and before the high altar, which glitters with 
precious stones, are four pillars of gilt bronze said to be 
those which Augustus made of the spars of Egyptian ves- 
sels captured at the battle of Actium. 

We descended the hill to the Coliseum, and, passing 
under the Arch of Constantine, walked along the ancient 
triumphal way at the foot of the Palatine Hill, which is 
entirely covered with the ruins of the Csesars* palace. A 
road rounding its southern base toward the Tiber brought 
us to the temple of Vesta — a beautiful little relic which has 
been singularly spared by the devastations that have over- 
thrown so many mightier fabrics. It is of circular form, 
surrounded by nineteen Corinthian columns thirty-six feet 
in height ; a clumsy tiled roof now takes the place of the 
elegant cornice which once gave the crowning charm to its 
perfect proportions. Close at hand are the remains of the 
temple of Fortuna Virilis, of which some Ionic pillars 
alone are left, and the house of Cola di Rienzi, the last tri- 
bune of Rome. 

As we approached the walls the sepulchre of Caius 
Cestius came in sight — a single solid pyramid one hundred 
feet in height. The walls are built against it, and the light 
apex rises far above the massive gate beside it which was 
erected by Belisarius. But there were other tombs at hand 
for which we had more sympathy than that of the forgotten 
Roman, and we turned away to look for the graves of 
Shelley and Keats. 

They lie in the Protestant burying-ground, on the side 
of a mound that slopes gently up to the old wall of Rome 
beside the pyramid of Cestius. The meadow around is 
still verdant and sown thick with daisies, and the soft green 
of the Italian pine mingles with the dark cypress above the 



THE GEAVE OF SHELLEY. 365 

slumberers. Huge aloes grow in the shade, and the sweet 
bay and bushes of rosemary make the air fresh and fra- 
grant. There is a solemn, mournful beauty about the 
place, green and lonely as it is, beside the tottering walls 
of ancient E-ome, that takes away the gloomy associations 
of death, and makes one wish to lie there too when his 
thread shall be spun to the end. 

We found first the simple headstone of Keats, alone in 
the grassy meadow. Its inscription states that on his death- 
bed, in the bitterness of his heart at the malice of his ene- 
mies, he desired these words to be written on his tombstone : 
" Here lies one whose name was written in water" Not far 
from him reposes the son of Shelley. 

Shelley himself lies at the top of the shaded slope, in a 
lonely spot by the wall, surrounded by tall cypresses. A 
little hedge of rose and bay surrounds his grave, which 
bears the simple inscription, " Percy Bysshe Shelley ; 
Cor Cordium" 

" Nothing of him that doth fade 
But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange." 

Glorious but misguided Shelley ! ' He sleeps calmly now 
in that silent nook, and the air around his grave is filled 
with sighs from those who mourn that the bright erratic 
star should have been blotted out ere it reached the zenith 
of its mounting fame. I plucked a leaf from the fragrant 
bay as a token of his fame, and a sprig of cypress from the 
bough that bent lowest over his grave, and, passing between 
tombs shaded with blooming roses or covered with un- 
withered garlands, left the lovely spot. 

Amid the excitement of continually changing scenes, I 
have forgotten to mention our first visit to the Coliseum. 
The day after our arrival we set out with two English 
friends to see it by sunset. Passing by the glorious foun- 
tain of Trevi, we made our way to the Forum, and from 




366 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

thence took the road to the Coliseum, lined on both sides 
with the remains of splendid edifices. The grass-grown 
ruins of the palace of the Csesars stretched along on our 
right ; on our left we passed in succession the granite front 
of the temple of Antoninus and Faustiua, the three grand 
arches of the temple of Peace and the ruins of the temple 
of Venus and Rome. We went under the ruined trium- 
phal Arch of Titus, with broken friezes representing the 
taking of Jerusalem, and the mighty walls of the Coliseum 
gradually rose before us. They grew in grandeur as we 
approached them ; and when at length we stood in the centre, 
with the shattered arches and grassy walls rising above and 
beyond one another far around us, the red light of sunset 
giving them a soft and melancholy beauty, I was fain to 
confess that another form of grandeur had entered my 
mind of which I before knew not. 

A majesty like that of nature clothes this wonderful edi- 
fice. Walls rise above walls and arches above arches from 
every side of the grand arena like a sweep of craggy, pin- 
nacled mountains around an oval lake. The two outer cir- 
cles have almost entirely disappeared, torn away by the 
rapacious nobles of Rome during the Middle Ages to 
build their palaces. When entire and filled with its hun- 
dred thousand spectators, it must have exceeded any 
pageant which the world can now produce. No wonder it 
was said, 

"While stands the Coliseum, Kome shall stand ; 
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall 
And when Kome falls, the world " 

— a prediction which time has not verified. The world is 
now going forward prouder than ever, and, though we 
thank Rome for the legacy she has left us, we would not 
wish the dust of her ruin to cumber our path. 

While standing in the arena, impressed with the spirit of 
the scene around me, which grew more spectral and melan' 



A COMMENTARY ON GREATNESS. 367 

choly as the dusk of evening began to fill up the broken 
arches, my eye was assailed by the shrines ranged around 
the space, doubtless to remove the pollution of paganism. 
In the middle stands, also, a cross with an inscription 
granting an absolution of forty days to all who kiss it. 
Now, although a simple cross in the centre might be very 
appropriate, both as a token of the heroic devotion of the 
martyr Telemachus and the triumph of a true religion over 
the barbarities of the past, this congregation of shrines and 
bloody pictures mars very much the unity of association so 
necessary to the perfect enjoyment of any such scene. 

We saw the flush of sunset fade behind the Capitoline 
Hill, and passed homeward by the Forum as its shattered 
pillars were growing solemn and spectral through the twi- 
light. I intend to visit them often again and " meditate 
amongst decay." I begin already to grow attached to their 
lonely grandeur. A spirit almost human speaks from the 
desolation, and there is something in the voiceless oracles it 
utters that strikes an answering chord in my own breast. 

In the Via de' Pontifici, not far distant from the Borghese 
Palace, we saw the mausoleum of Augustus. It is a large 
circular structure somewhat after the plan of that of 
Hadrian, but on a much smaller scale. The interior has 
been cleared out, seats erected around the walls, and the 
whole is now a summer theatre for the amusement of the 
peasantry and tradesmen. What a commentary on great- 
ness ! Harlequin playing his pranks in the tomb of an em* 
peror, and the spot which nations approached with rever- 
ence resounding with the mirth of beggars and degraded 
vassals ! 

I visited lately the studio of a young Philadelphian, Mr. 
W. B. Chambers, who has been here two or three years. In 
studying the legacies of art which the old masters left to 
their country, he has caught some of the genuine poetic in- 
spiration which warmed them. But he is modest as tal- 
ented, and appears to undervalue his works so long as they 



368 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

do not reach his own mental ideal. He chooses principally 
subjects from the Italian peasant-life, which abounds with 
picturesque and classic beauty. His pictures of the shep- 
herd-boy of the Albruzzi and the brown maidens of the 
Campagna are fine illustrations of this class, and the fidelity 
wdth which he copies nature is an earnest of his future 
success. 

I was in the studio of Crawford, the sculptor ; he has at 
present nothing finished in the marble. There were many 
casts of his former works, which, judging from their ap- 
pearance in plaster, must be of no common excellence ; for 
the sculptor can only be justly judged in marble. I saw 
some fine bas-reliefs of classical subjects and an exquisite 
group of Mercury and Psyche, but his masterpiece is un- 
doubtedly the Orpheus. There is a spirit in this figure 
which astonished me. The face is full of the inspiration of 
the poet softened by the lover's tenderness, and the whole 
fervor of his soul is expressed in the eagerness with which 
he gazes forward on stepping past the sleeping Cerberus. 
Crawford is now engaged on the statue of an Indian girl 
pierced by an arrow and dying. It is a simple and touch- 
ing figure, and will, I think, be one of his best works. 

We are often amused with the groups in the square of 
the Pantheon, which we can see from our chamber-window. 
Shoemakers and tinkers carry on their business along the 
sunny side, while the venders of oranges and roasted chestnuts 
form a circle around the Egyptian obelisk and fountain. 
Across the end of an opposite street we get a glimpse of the 
vegetable market, and now and then the shrill voice of a 
pedler makes its nasal solo audible above the confused cho- 
rus. As the beggars choose the Corso, St. Peter's and the 
ruins for their principal haunts, we are now spared the 
hearing of their lamentations. Every time we go out we 
are assailed with them. " Maladetta sia la vostra testa f' 
— " Curses be upon your head !" — said one whom I passed 
without notice. The priests are, however, the greatest beg- 



TEATTOPJA BEL SOLE. 3G9 

gars. In every church are kept offering-boxes, for the sup- 
port of the church or some unknown institution ; they even 
go from house to house imploring support and assistance in 
the name of the Virgin and all the saints, while their 
bloated, sensual countenances and capacious frames tell of 
anything but fasts and privations. Once, as I was sitting 
among the ruins, I was suddenly startled by a loud, rattling 
sound ; turning my head, I saw a figure clothed in white 
from head to foot, with only two small holes for the eyes. 
He held in his hand a money-box on which was a figure of 
the Virgin, which he held close to my lips that I might kiss it. 
This I declined doing, but dropped a baiocco into his box, 
when, making the sign of the cross, he silently disappeared. 

Our present lodging (Trattoria del Sole) is a good speci- 
men of an Italian inn for mechanics and common tradesmen. 
Passing through the front room — which is an eating-place 
for the common people, with a barrel of wine in the corner 
and bladders of lard hanging among orange boughs in the 
window — we enter a dark court-yard filled with heavy carts 
and noisy with the neighing of horses and singing of grooms, 
for the stables occupy part of the house. An open staircase 
running all around this hollow square leads to the second, 
third and fourth stories. 

On the second story is the dining-room for the better class 
of travellers, who receive the same provisions as those below 
for double the price and the additional privilege of giving 
the waiter two baiocchi. The sleeping-apartments are in the 
fourth story, and are named according to the fancy of a 
former landlord in mottoes above each door. Thus, on ar- 
riving here, the Triester, with his wife and child, more for- 
tunate than our first parents, took refuge in " Paradise," 
while we Americans were ushered into the "Chamber of 
Jove." We have occupied it ever since, and find a paul 
(ten cents) apiece cheap enough for a good bed and a win- 
dow opening on the Pantheon. 

Next to the Coliseum, the Baths of Caracalla are the 



370 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

grandest remains of Rome. The building is a thousand feet 
square, and its massive walls look as if built by a race of 
giants. These Titan remains are covered with green shrub- 
bery, and long, trailing vines sweep over the cornice and 
wave down like tresses from architrave and arch. In some 
of its grand halls the mosaic pavement is yet entire. The 
excavations are still carried on ; from the number of statues 
already found, this would seem to have been one of the most 
gorgeous edifices of the olden time. 

I have been now several days loitering and sketching 
among the ruins, and I feel as if I could willingly wander 
for months beside these mournful relics and draw inspira- 
tion from the lofty yet melancholy lore they teach. There 
is a spirit haunting them real and undoubted. Every shat- 
tered column, every broken arch and mouldering wall, but 
calls up more vividly to mind the glory that has passed 
away. Each lonely pillar stands as proudly as if it still 
helped to bear up the front of a glorious temple, and the 
air seems scarcely to have ceased vibrating with the clarions 
that heralded a conqueror's triumph. 

"the old majestic trees 
Stand ghost-like in the Caesar's home, 

As if their conscious roots were set 
In the old graves of giant Rome, 

And drew their sap all kingly yet. 

***** 
•' There every mouldering stone beneath 

Is broken from some mighty thought, 
And sculptures in the dust still breathe 

The fire with which their lines were wrought, 
And sunder'd arch and plundered tomb 
Still thunder back the echo, * Rome I' " 

In Rome there is no need that the imagination be excited 
to call up thrilling emotion or poetic reverie : they are 
forced on the mind by the sublime spirit of the scene. The 
roused bard might here pour forth his thoughts in the wild- 



MOONLIGHT IN THE COLISEUM. '371 

est climaxes, and I could believe he felt it all. This is like 
the Italy of my dreams — that golden realm whose image 
has been nearly chased away by the earthly reality. I ex- 
pected to find a land of light and beauty where every step 
crushed a flower or displaced a sunbeam, whose very air was 
poetic inspiration, and whose every scene filled the soul Vv^ith 
romantic feelings. Nothing is left of my picture but the 
far-ofi* mountains robed in the sapphire veil of the Ausonian 
air, and these ruins amid whose fallen glory sits triumphant 
the spirit of ancient song. 

I have seen the flush of morn and eve rest on the Coli- 
seum ; I have seen the noonday sky framed in its broken 
loopholes like plates of polished sapphire ; and last night, 
as the moon has grown into the zenith, I went to view it with 
her. Around the Forum all was silent and spectral ; a sen- 
tinel challenged us at the Arch of Titus, under which we 
passed, and along the Csesar's wall, which lay in black 
shadow. Dead stillness brooded around the Coliseum ; the 
pale, silvery lustre streamed through its arches and over 
the grassy walls, giving them a look of shadowy grandeur 
which day could not bestow. The scene will remain fresh 
m my memory for ever. 



CHAPTER XLI. 

TIVOLI AND THE EOMAN CAMPAGNA. 

January 9. 
A FEW days ago we returned from an excursion to Tivoli, 
one of the loveliest spots in Italy. We left the Eternal 
City by the gate of San Lorenzo, and twenty minutes' walk 
brought us to the bare and bleak Campagna, which was 
spread around us for leagues in every direction. Here and 
there a shepherd-boy in his woolly coat, and his flock of 



372 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

browsing sheep, were the only objects that broke its desert- 
like monotony. 

At the fourth mile we crossed the rapid Anio, the ancient 
Teverone, formerly the boundary between Latium and the 
Sabine dominions, and at the tenth came upon some frag- 
ments of the old Tiburtine Way, formed of large irregular 
blocks of basaltic lava. A short distance farther we saw 
across the plain the ruins of the Bath of Agrippa, built by 
the side of the Tartarean Lake. The wind blowing from 
it bore us an overpowering smell of sulphur ; the waters 
of the little river Solfatara, which crosses the road, are of 
a milky blue color, and carry those of the lake into the 
Anio. A fragment of the old bridge over it still remains. 

Finding the water quite warm, we determined to have a 
bath ; so we ran down the plain, which was covered with a 
thick coat of sulphur and sounded hollow to our tread, till 
we reached a convenient place, where we threw off our 
clothes and plunged in. The warm wave was delightful to 
the skin, but extremely offensive to the smell ; and when 
we came out, our mouths and throats were filled with the 
stifling gas. 

It was growing dark as we mounted through the narrow 
streets of Tivoli, but we endeavored to gain some sight of 
the renowned beauties of the spot before going to rest. 
From a platform on a brow of the hill we looked down into 
the defile at whose bottom the Anio was roaring, and caught 
a sideward glance of the Cascatelles, sending up their spray 
amid the evergreen bushes that fringe the rocks. Above 
the deep glen that curves into the mountain stands the 
beautiful temple of the Sybil, a building of the most per- 
fect and graceful proportion. It crests the " rocky brow " 
like a fairy-dwelling, and looks all the lovelier for the wild 
caverns below. Gazing downward from the bridge, one 
sees the waters of the Anio tumbling into the picturesque 
Grotto of the Sirens ; around a rugged corner a cloud of 
white spray whirls up continually, while the boom of a cat- 



CASCADE OF THE ANIO. • 373 

aract rumbles down the glen. All these we marked in the 
deepening dusk, and then hunted an albergo. The shrill- 
voiced hostess gave us a good supper and clean beds ; in 
return we diverted the people very much by the relation 
of our suli^hur-bath. 

We were awakened in the night by the wind shaking the 
very soul out of our loose casement. I fancied I heard tor- 
rents of rain dashing against the panes, and groaned in bit- 
terness of spirit on thinking of a walk back to Rome in 
such weather. When morning came, we found it was only 
a^ hurricane of wind which was strong enough to tear off 
pieces of the old roofs. I saw some Capuchins nearly over- 
turned in crossing the square by the wind seizing their 
white robes. 

I had my fingers frozen and my eyes filled with sand in 
trying to draw the Sybil's temple, and therefore left it to 
join my companions, who had gone down into the glen to 
see the great cascade. The Anio bursts out of a cavern in 
the mountain-side, and like a prisoner giddy with recovered 
liberty reels over the edge of a precipice more than two 
hundred feet deep. The bottom is hid in a cloud of boil- 
ing spray that shifts from side to side and, driven by the 
wind, sweeps whistling down the narrow pass. It stuns the 
ear with a perpetual boom, giving a dash of grandeur to 
the enrapturing beauty of the scene. I tried a footpath 
that appeared to lead down to the Cascatelles, but after ad- 
vancing some distance along the side of an almost perpen- 
dicular precipice I came to a corner that looked so danger- 
ous, especially as the wind was nearly strong enough to 
carry me off, that it seemed safest to return. We made an- 
other vain attempt to get down by creeping along the bed 
of a torrent filled with briers. 

The Cascatelles are formed by that part of the Anio 
which is used in the iron-works made out of the ruins of 
Mec^nas' villa. They gush out from under the ancient 
arches and tumble more than a hundred feet down the 



374 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

precipice, their white waters gleaming out from the dark 
and feathery foliage. Not far distant are the remains of 
the villa of Horace. 

We took the road to Frascati, and walked for miles among 
cane-swamps and over plains covered with sheep. The peo- 
ple we saw were most degraded and ferocious-looking, and 
there were many I would not willingly meet alone after night- 
fall. Indeed, it is still considered quite unsafe to venture with- 
out the walls of Rome after dark. The women, with their 
yellow complexions and the bright red blankets they wear 
folded around the head and shoulders, resemble Indian 
squaws. 

I lately spent three hours in the museum of the Capitol, 
on the summit of the sacred hill. In the Hall of the Glad- 
iator I noticed an exquisite statue of Diana. There is a 
pure virgin grace in the classic outlines of the figure that 
keeps the eye long upon it. The face is full of cold, ma- 
jestic dignity, but it is the ideal of a being to be worshipped 
rather than loved. The Faun of Praxiteles, in the same 
room, is a glorious work ; it is the perfect embodiment of 
that wild, merry race the Grecian poets dreamed of. One 
looks on the Gladiator with a hushed breath and an awed 
spirit. He is dying ; the blood flows more slowly from the 
deep wound in his side ; his head is sinking downward, and 
the arm that supports his body becomes more and more 
nerveless. You feel that a dull mist is coming over his 
vision, and almost wait to see his relaxing limbs sink sud- 
denly oh his shield. That the rude barbarian form has a 
soul may be read in his touchingly expressive countenance. 
It warms the sympathies like reality to look upon it, yet 
how many Romans may have gazed on this work moved 
nearly to tears who have seen hundreds perish in the arena 
without a pitying emotion ! Why is it that Art has a voice 
frequently more powerful than Nature ? 

How cold it is here ! I was forced to run home to-night 



i 



TOMB OF CECILIA METELLA. 375 

nearly at full speed from the Cafe delle Belle Arti, through 
the Corso and the Piazza Colonna, to keep warm. The 
clear, frosty moon threw the shadow of the Column of An- 
toninus over me as I passed, and it made me shiver to look 
at the thin falling sheet of the fountain. Winter is Winter 
everywhere, and even the sun of Italy cannot always scorch 
his icy wings. 

Two days ago we took a ramble outside the walls. Pass- 
ing the Coliseum and Caracalla's Baths, we reached the 
tomb of Scipio, a small sepulchral vault near the roadside. 
The ashes of the warrior were scattered to the winds long 
ago and his mausoleum is fast falling to decay. The old 
arch over the Appian Way is still standing, near the mod- 
ern Porta San Sebastiano, through which we entered on the 
far-famed road. Here and there it is quite entire, and we 
walked over the stones once worn by the feet of Virgil and 
Horace and Cicero. After passing the temple of Romulus 
— a shapeless and ivy-grown ruin — and walking a mile or 
more beyond the walls, we reached the Circus of Caracalla, 
whose long and shattered walls fill the hollow of one of the 
little dells of the Campagna. The original structure must 
have been of great size and splendor, but those twin-van- 
dals Time and Avarice have stripped away everything but 
the lofty brick masses, whose nakedness the pitying ivy 
strives to cover. 

Farther, on a gentle slope, is the tomb of " the wealthiest 
Roman's wife," familiar to every one through Childe Har- 
old's musings. It is a round massive tower faced with large 
blocks of marble, and still bearing the name of Cecilia 
Metella. One side is much ruined, and the top is overgrown 
with grass and wild bushes. The wall is about thirty feet 
thick ; so that but a small round space is left in the interior, 
which is open to the rain and filled with rubbish. The echoes 
pronounced hollowly after us the name of the dead for 
whom it was built, but they could tell us nothing of her 
life's history. 



376 VIEWS A-FGOT. 

"How lived, how loved, how. died, she?'* 

I made a hurried drawing of it, and we then turned to the 
left, across the Campagna, to seek the Grotto of Egeria. 
Before us, across the brown plain, extended the Sabine 
Mountains ; in the clear air the houses of Tivoli, twenty 
miles distant, were plainly visible. The giant aqueduct 
stretched in a long line across the Campagna to the moun- 
tain of Albano, its broken and disjointed arches resembling 
the vertebrae of some mighty monster. With the ruins of 
temples and tombs strewing the plain for miles around it, 
it might be called the spine to the skeleton of Rome. 

We passed many ruins made beautiful by the clinging 
ivy, and reached a solemn grove of evergreen oak overlook- 
ing a secluded valley. I was soon in the meadow, leaping 
ditches, rustling through canebrakes and climbing up to 
mossy arches to find out the fountain of Numa's nymph, 
while my companion, who had less taste for the romantic, 
looked on complacently from the leeward side of the hill. 
At length we found an arched vault in the hillside over- 
hung with wild vines and shaded in summer by umbrage- 
ous trees that grow on the soil above. At the farther end 
a stream of water gushed out from beneath a broken statue, 
and an aperture in the wall revealed a dark cavern behind. 
This, then, was " Egeria's grot." The ground was trampled 
by the feet of cattle, and the taste of the water was any- 
thing but pleasant. But it was not for Numa and his nymph 
alone that I sought it so ardently. The sunbeam of another 
mind lingers on the spot. See how it gilds the ruined and 
neglected fount ! 



^&' 



" The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled 
With thine Elysian water-drops ; the face 
Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled, 

Keflects the meek-eyed genius of the place. 
Whose wild green margin now no more erase 
Art's works ; no more its sparkling waters sleep, 



ST. PETEE'S. 377 

Prisoned in marble: bubbling from tlie base 

Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap 
The riil runs o'er, and 'round fern, flowers and ivy creep, 
Fantastically tangled." 

I tried to creep into the grotto, but it was unpleasantly dark, 
and no nymph appeared to chase away the shadow with her 
lustrous eyes. The whole hill is pierced by subterranean 
chambers and passages. 

I spent another Sunday morning in St. Peter's. High 
mass was being celebrated in one of the side-chapels, and a 
great number of the priesthood were present. The music 
was simple, solemn and very impressive, and a fine efiect 
was produced by the combination of the full, sonorous voices of 
the priests and the divine sweetness of that band of mutilated 
unfortunates who sing here. They sang with a full, clear 
tone sweet as the first lispings of a child, but it was painful 
to hear that melody, purchased at the expense of manhood. 

Near the dome is a bronze statue of St. Peter which 
seems to have a peculiar atmosphere of sanctity. People 
say their prayers before it by hundreds and then kiss its 
toe, which is nearly worn away by the application of so 
many thousand lips. I saw a crowd struggle most irrever- 
ently to pay their devotion to it. There was a great deal 
of jostling and confusion ; some went so far as to thrust the 
faces of others against the toe as they were about to kiss it. 
What is more remarkable, it is an antique statue of Jupiter — 
taken, I believe, from the Pantheon. An English artist, 
showing it to a friend just arrived in Eome, remarked very 
wittily that it was the statue of Jeiv-Peter. 

I went afterward to the Villa Borghese, outside the Porta^ 
del Popolo. The gardens occupy thirty or forty acres, and 
are always thronged in the afternoon with the carriages of 
the Roman and foreign nobility. In summer it must be a 
heavenly place ; even now, with its musical fountains, long 
avenues and grassy slopes crowned with the fanlike branches 
of the Italian pine, it reminds one of the fairy landscapes of 



378 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Boccaccio. We threaded our way through the press of 
carriages on the Pincian Hill, and saw the enormous bulk 
of St. Peter's loom up against the sunset sky. I counted 
forty domes and spires in that part of Rome that lay below 
us, but on what a marble glory looked that sun eighteen 
centuries ago ! Modern Rome ! It is in comparison a den 
of filth, cheats and beggars. 

Yesterday, while taking a random stroll through the city, 
I visited the church of St. Onofrio, where Tasso is buried. 
It is not far from St. Peter's, on the summit of a lonely hill. 
The building was closed, but an old monk admitted us on 
application. The interior is quite small, but very old, and 
the floor is covered with the tombs of princes and prelates 
of a past century. Near the end I found a small slab with 
the inscription, 

TORQUATI TASSI 

OSSA 

HIC JACENT. 

That was all, but what more was needed ? Who knows not 
the name and fame and sufferings of the glorious bard? 
The pomp of gold and marble are not needed to deck the 
slumber of genius. On the wall, above, hangs an old and 
authentic portrait of him very similar to the engravings in 
circulation. A crown of laurel encircles the lofty brow, 
and the eye has that wild, mournful expression which 
accords so well with the mysterious tale of his love and 
madness. 

Owing to the mountain-storms, which imposed on us the 
expense of a carriage-journey to Rome, we shall be pre- 
vented from going farther. One great cause of this is the 
heavy fee required for passports in Italy. In most of the 
Italian cities the cost of the diflferent vishs amounts to four 
or five dollars ; a few such visits as these reduce our funds 
very materially. The American consul's fee is two dollars, 
owing to the illiberal course of our government in withhold- 



DISAPPOINTED HOPES. 379 

ing all salary from her consuls in Europe. Mr. Brown, 
however, in whose family we spent last evening very pleas- 
antly, on our requesting that he would deduct something 
from the usual fee, kindly declined accepting anything. 
We felt this kindness the more as, from the character which 
some of our late consuls bear in Italy, we had not antici- 
pated it. We shall remember him with deeper gratitude 
than many would suppose who have never known what it 
was to be a foreigner. 

To-morrow, therefore, we leave Rome ; here is, at last, 
the limit of our wanderings. We have spent much toil 
and privation to reach here, and now, after two weeks' ram- 
bling and musing among the mighty relics of past glory, we 
turn our faces homeward. The thrilling hope I cherished 
during the whole pilgrimage to climb Parnassus and drink 
from Castaly under the blue heaven of Greece (both far 
easier than the steep hill and hidden fount of poesy I wor- 
ship afar off), to sigh for fallen art beneath the broken 
friezes of the Parthenon and look with a pilgrim's eye on 
the isles of Homer and of Sappho must be given up, unwill- 
ingly and sorrowfully though it be. These glorious antici- 
pations — among the brightest that blessed my boyhood— are 
slowly wrung from me by stern necessity. Even Naples, 
the lovely Parthenope, where the Mantuan bard sleeps on 
the sunny shore by the bluest of summer seas, with the dis- 
interred Pompeii beyond and Psestum amid its roses on the 
lonely Calabrian plain, — even this, almost within sight of 
the cross of St. Peter's, is barred from me.~Farewell, then, 
clime of " fame and eld," since it must be. A pilgrim's 
blessing for the lore ye have taught him ! 



380 VIEWS A-FOOT. 



CHAPTER XLII. 

Palo. 

The sea is breaking in long swells below the window, and 
a glorious planet shines in the place of the sunset that has 
died away. This is our first resting-place since leaving 
Rome. We have been walking all day over the bare and 
dreary Campagna, and it is a relief to look at last on the 
broad blue expanse of the Tyrrhene Sea. 

When we emerged from the cool alleys of Rome and be- 
gan to climb up and down the long barren swells, the sun 
beat down on us with an almost summer heat. On crossing 
a ridge near Castle Guido we took our last look of Rome, 
and saw from the other side the sunshine lying like a daz- 
zling belt on the far Mediterranean. The country is one 
of the most wretched that can be imagined. Miles and 
miles of uncultivated land with scarcely a single habitation 
extend on either side of the road, and the few shepherds 
who watch their flocks in the marshy hollows look wild and 
savage enough for any kind of crime. It made me shud- 
der to see every face bearing such a villanous stamp. 

Cn^iTA Vecchia, Jan. 11. 

We left Palo just after sunrise, and walked in the cool 
of the morning beside the blue Mediterranean. On the 
right the low outposts of the Apennines rose bleak and 
brown, the narrow plain between them and the shore resem- 
bling a desert, so destitute was it of the signs of civilized 
life. A low white cloud that hung over the sea afar off 
showed us the locality of Sardinia, though the land was not 
visible. The sun shone down warmly, and, with the blue 
sky and bluer sea, we could easily have imagined a milder 
season. The barren scenery took a new interest in my eyes 
when I remembered that I was spending amidst it that 
birthday which removes me in the eyes of the world from 
dependent youth to responsible manhood. 




PEOVENCE. 381 

In the afternoon we found a beautiful cove in a curve of 
the shore, and went to bathe in the cold surf. It was very 
refreshing, but not quite equal to the sulphur bath on the 
road to Tivoli. The mountains now ran closer to the sea, 
and the road was bordered with thickets of myrtle. I 
stopped often to beat my staff into the bushes and inhale 
the fragrance that arose from their crushed leaves. The 
hills were covered with this poetical shrub, and any acre of 
the ground would make the fortune of a florist at home. 

The sun was sinking in a sky of orange and rose as Civita 
Vecchia came in sight on a long headland before us. Be- 
yond the sea stretched the dim hills of Corsica. We walked 
nearly an hour in the clear moonlight by the sounding 
shore before the gate of the city was reached. We have 
found a tolerable inn, and are now enjoying the pleasures 
of supper and rest. 

Marseilles, January 16. 
At length we tread the shore of France — of sunny Prov- 
ence, the last unvisited realm we have to roam through be- 
fore returning home. It is wdth a feeling of more than 
common relief that we see around us the lively faces and 
hear the glib tongues of the French. It is like an earnest 
that the " roughing " we have undergone among Bohemian 
boors and Italian savages is wellnigh finished, and that 
henceforth we shall find civilized sympathy and politeness, 
if nothing more, to make the way smoother. Perhaps the 
three woeful days which terminated at half-past two yester- 
day afternoon, as we passed through the narrow strait into 
the beautiful harbor which Marseilles encloses in her shel- 
tering heart, make it still pleasanter. Now, while there is 
time, I must describe those three days, for who could write 
on the wet deck of a steamboat, amid all the sights and 
smells which a sea- voyage creates ? Description does not 
flourish when the bones are sore with lying on planks and 
the body shivering like an aspen-leaf with cold. 

About the old town of Civita Vecchia there is not much 



382 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

to be said, except that it has the same little harbor which 
Trajan dug for it and is as dirty and disagreeable as a town 
can well be. We saw nothing except a little church and 
the prison-yard full of criminals where the celebrated ban- 
dit Gasparoni has been now confined for eight years. 

The Neapolitan company's boat, Mongibello, was adver- 
tised to leave the 12th ; so, after procuring our passports, 
we went to the office to take passage. The official, how- 
ever, refused to give us tickets for the third place, because, 
forsooth, we were not servants or common laborers, and 
words were wasted in trying to convince him that it would 
make no difference. As the second-cabin fare was nearly 
three times as high and entirely too dear for us, we went to 
the office of the Tuscan company, whose boat was to leave 
in two days. Through the influence of an Italian gentle- 
man, secretary to Bartolini, the American consul, whom we 
met, they agreed to take us for forty-five francs on deck, 
the price of the Neapolitan boat being thirty. 

Rather than stay two days longer in the dull town, we 
went again to the latter company's office, and offered them 
forty-five francs to go that day in their boat. This removed 
the former scruples, and tickets were immediately made 
out. After a plentiful dinner at the alhergo to prepare our-. 
selves for the exposure, we filled our pockets with a supply 
of bread, cheese and figs for the voyage. We then en- 
gaged a boatman, who agreed to row us out to the steamer 
for two pauls; but after he had us on board and an oar's 
length from the quay, he said two pauls apiece was his bar- 
c^ain. I instantly refused, and, summoning the best Italian 
1 could command, explained our agreement ; but he still 
persisted in demanding double price. The dispute soon 
drew a number of persons to the quay, some of whom, be- 
ing boatmen, sided with him. Finding he had us safe in 
his boat, his manner was exceedingly calm and polite. 
He contradicted me with a " Pardon, signor !" accompany- 
ing the words with a low bow and a graceful lift of his 



A HAKD BED. 383 

scarlet cap, and replied to my indignant accusations in the 
softest and most silvery-modulated Roman sentences. I 
found, at last, that if I was in the right I cut the worse 
figure of the two, and therefore put an end to the dispute 
by desiring him to row on at his own price. 

The hour of starting was two, but the boat lay quietly 
in the harbor till four, when we glided out on the open sea 
and went northward, with the blue hills of Corsica far on 
our left. A gorgeous sunset faded away over the water, 
and the moon rose behind the low mountains of the Italian 
coast. Having found a warm and sheltered place near the 
chimney, I drew my beaver farther over my eyes to keep 
out the moonlight, and lay down on the deck with my 
knapsack under my head. It was a hard bed indeed, and 
the first time I attempted to rise I found myself glued to the 
floor by the pitch which was smeared along the seams of 
the boards. Our fellow-sufferers were a company of Swiss 
soldiers going home after a four years' service under the 
king of Naples, but they took to their situation more easily 
than we. Sleep was next to impossible; so I paced the 
deck occasionally, looking out on the moonlit sea and the 
dim shores on either side. 

A little after midnight we passed between Elba and 
Corsica. The dark crags of Elba rose on our right and 
the bold headlands of Napoleon's isle stood opposite, at per- 
haps twenty miles' distance. There was something dreary 
and mysterious in the whole scene, viewed at such a time ; 
the grandeur of his career who was born on one and exiled 
to the other gave it a strange and thrilling interest. 

We made the lighthouse before the harbor of Leghorn 
at dawn, and by sunrise were anchored within the mole. I 
sat on the deck the whole day watching the picturesque 
vessels that skimmed about with their lateen sails and won- 
dering how soon the sailors on the deck of a Boston brig 
anchored near us would see my distant country. Leaving 
at four o'clock, we dashed away along the mountain-coast 



384 VIEWS A-FOdT. 

of Carrara at a rapid rate. The wind was strong and cold, 
but I lay down behind the boiler, and, though the boards 
were as hard as ever, slept two or three hours. When I 
awoke, at half-past two in the morning, after a short rest, 
Genoa was close at hand. We glided between the two re- 
volving lights on the mole into the harbor, with the amphi- 
theatre on which the superb city sits dark and silent around 
us. It began raining soon, the engine-fire sank down, and, 
as there was no place of shelter, we were shortly wet to 
the skin. 

How long those dreary hours seemed till the dawn came ! 
All was cold and rainy and dark, and we waited in a kind 
of torpid misery for daylight. The entire day I passed sit- 
ting in a coil of rope under the stern of the cabin, and even 
the beauties of the glorious city scarce affected me. We 
lay opposite the Doria palace, and the constellation of vil- 
las and towers still glittered along the hills ; but who with 
his teeth chattering and limbs numb and damp could feel 
pleasure in looking on Elysium itself? 

We got under way again at three o'clock. The rain very 
soon hid the coast from view, and the waves pitched our 
boat about in a manner not at all pleasant. I soon experi- 
enced sea-sickness in all its horrors. We had accidentally made 
the acquaintance of one of the Neapolitan sailors, who had 
been in America. He was one of those rough, honest na- 
tures I like to meet with ; their blunt kindness is better 
than refined and oily-tongued suavity. As we were stand- 
ing by the chimney reflecting dolefully how we should pass 
the coming night he came up and said, " I am in trouble 
about you poor fellows. I don't think I shall sleep three 
hours to-night, to think of you. I shall tell all the cabin 
they shall give you beds, because they shall see you are gen- 
tlemen." Whether he did so or the ofiicers were moved by 
spontaneous commiseration, we knew not, but in half an 
hour a servant beckoned us into the cabin, and berths were 
given us. I turned in with a feeling of relief not easily im- 



THE BAY OF MARSEILLES. 385 

agined, and forgave tlie fleas willingly, in the comfort of a 
shelter from the storm. 

When I awoke, it was broad day. A fresh breeze was 
drying the deck, and the sun was half visible among break- 
ing clouds. We had just passed the Isle of the Titan — 
one of the Isles des Hyeres — and the Bay of Toulon opened 
on our right. It was a rugged, rocky coast, but the hills 
of sunny Provence rose beyond. The sailor came up with 
a smile of satisfaction on his rough countenance, and said, 
" You did sleep better, I think ? I did tell them all," coup- 
ling his assertion with a round curse on the officers. 

We ran along beside the brown, bare crags till nearly 
noon, when we reached the eastern point of the Bay of 
Marseilles. A group of small islands formed of bare rocks 
rising in precipices three or four hundred feet high guards 
the point. On turning into the gulf we saw on the left the 
rocky islands of Pomegues and If, with the castle crowning 
the latter in which Mirabeau was confined. The ranges of 
hills which rose around the great bay were spotted and 
sprinkled over with thousands of the country cottages of 
the Marseilles merchants, called bastides ; the city itself 
was hidden from view. We saw, apparently, the whole bay, 
but there was no crowd of vessels such as would befit a great 
seaport ; a few spires peeping over a hill, with some fortifi- 
cations, were all that was visible. At length we turned sud- 
denly aside and entered a narrow strait between two forts. 
Immediately a broad harbor opened before us, locked in the 
very heart of the hills on which the city stands ; it was cov- 
ered with vessels of all nations. On leaving the boat we 
rowed past the Aristides, bearing the blue cross of Greece, 
and I searched eagerly, and found among the crowded masts 
the starry banner of America. 

I have rambled through all the principal parts of Mar- 
seilles, and am very favorably impressed with its appear- 
ance. Its cleanliness and the air of life and business -^vhich 
marks the streets are the more pleasant after coming from 



386 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the dirty and depopulated Italian cities. The broad ave- 
nues lined with trees which traverse its whole length must 
be delightful in summer. I am often reminded by its spa- 
cious and crowded thoroughfares of our American cities. 
Although founded by the Phoceans three thousand years 
ago, it has scarcely an edifice of greater antiquity than 
three or four centuries, and the tourist must content him- 
self with wandering through the narrow streets of the old 
town, observing the Provengal costumes, or strolling among 
Turks and Moors on the Quai d'Orleans. 

We have been detained here a day longer than was nec- 
essary, owing to some misunderstanding about the passports. 
This has not been favorable to our reduced circumstances, 
for we have now but twenty francs each left to take us to 
Paris. Our boots too, after serving us so long, begin to 
show signs of failing in this hour of adversity. Although 
we are somewhat accustomed to such circumstances, I can- 
not help shrinking when I think of the solitary napoleon 
and the five hundred miles to be passed. Perhaps, however, 
the coin will do as much as its great namesake, and achieve 
for us a Marengo in the war with Fate. 



CHAPTEE XLIII. 

PILGRIMAGE TO VAUCLUSE AND JOURNEY UP THE RHONE. 

We left MarseDles about nine o'clock on a dull, rainy 
morning for Avignon and the Rhone, intending to take in 
our way the glen of Vaucluse. The dirty faubourgs stretch 
out along the road for a great distance, and we trudged 
through them, past foundries, furnaces and manufactories, 
considerably disheartened with the prospect. We wound 
among the bleak stony hills, continually ascending, for 
nearly three hours. Great numbers of cabarets frequented 



A EAMBLE IN AIX. 387 

by the common people lined the roads, and we met contin- 
ually trains of heavy-laden wagons drawn by large mules. 
The country is very wild and barren, and would have been 
tiresome except for the pine groves with their beautiful 
green foliage. We got something to eat with difficulty at 
an inn, for the people spoke nothing but the Provengal dia- 
lect, and the place was so cold and cheerless we were glad 
to go out again into the storm. It mattered little to us 
that we heard the language in which the gay troubadours 
of King Kene sung their songs of love. We thought more 
of our dripping clothes and numb, cold limbs, and would 
have been glad to hear, instead, the strong, hearty German 
tongue, full of warmth and kindly sympathy for the stranger. 
The wind swept drearily among the hills; black, gusty 
clouds covered the sky and the incessant rain filled the 
road with muddy pools. We looked at the country chateaux, 
so comfortable in the midst of their sheltering poplars, with 
a sigh, and thought of homes afar off whose doors were never 
closed to us. 

This was all forgotten when we reached Aix and the 
hostess of the Cafe d'Afrique filled her little stove with fresh 
coal and hung our wet garments around it, while her daugh- 
ter, a pale-faced crippled child, smiled kindly on us and 
tried to talk with us in French. Putting on our damp, 

heavy coats again, B and I rambled through the streets 

while our frugal supper was preparing. We saw the statue 
of the bon roi Eene, who held at Aix his court of shepherds 
and troubadours, the dark cathedral of St. Sauveur, the an- 
cient walls and battlements, and gazed down the valley at the 
dark precipitous mass of Mont St. Victor, at whose base 
Marius obtained a splendid victory over the barbarians. 

After leaving next morning, we saw at some distance to 
the south the enormous aqueduct now being erected for the 
canal from the Ehone to Marseilles. The shallow, elevated 
valleys we passed in the forenoon's walk were stony and 
barren,. but covered with large orchards of almond trees, 



388 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the fruit of which forms a considerable article of export. 
This district borders on the desert of the Crau, a vast plain 
of stones reaching to the mouth of the Rhone and almost 
entirely uninhabited. We caught occasional glimpses of its 
sealike waste between the summits of the hills. At length, 
after threading a high ascent, we saw the valley of the 
Durance suddenly below us. The sun, breaking through 
the clouds, shone on the mountain-wall which stood on the 
opposite side, touching with his glow the bare and rocky 
precipices that frowned far above the stream. Descending 
to the valley, we followed its course toward the Rhone with 
the ruins of feudal bourgs crowning the crags above us. 

It w*as dusk when we reached the village of Senas tired 
with the day's march. A landlord standing in his door, on 
the lookout for customers, invited us to enter in a manner 
so polite and pressing we could not choose but do so. 
This is a universal custom with the country innkeepers. In 
a little village which we passed toward evening there was a 
tavern with the sign "The Mother of Soldiers." A portly 
woman whose face beamed with kindness and cheerfulness 
stood in the door and invited us to stop there for the night. 
" No, mother," I answered ; " we must go much farther to- 
day." — " Go, then," said she, " with good luck, my children ! 
A pleasant journey !" 

On entering the inn at Senas two or three bronzed soldiers 
were sitting by the table. My French vocabulary happen- 
ing to give out in the middle of a consultation about eggs 
and onion-soup, one of them came to my assistance and ad- 
dressed me in German. He was from Fulda, in Hesse- 
Cassel, and had served fifteen years in Africa. Two other 
young soldiers, from the western border of Germany, came 
during the evening, and one of them, being partly intoxi- 
cated, created such a tumult that a quarrel arose which 
ended in his being beaten and turned out of the house. 

We met every day large numbers of recruits, in com- 
panies of one or two hundred, on their way to Marseilles to 



PICTUEESQUE L'ISLE. 389 

embark for Algiers. They were mostly youths from sixteen 
to twenty years of age, and seemed little to forebode their 
probable fate. In looking on their fresh, healthy faces and 
bounding forms, I saw also a dim and ghastly vision of 
bones whitening on the desert, of men perishing with heat 
and fever or stricken down by the aim of the savage Bed- 
ouin. 

Leaving next morning at daybreak, we walked on before 
breakfast to Orgon, a little village in a corner of the cliffs 
which border the Durance, and crossed the muddy river by 
a suspension bridge a short distance below, to Cavaillon, 
where the country-people were holding a great market. 
From this place a road led across the meadow-land to L'Isle, 
six miles distant. This little town is so named because it is 
situated on an island formed by the crystal Sorgues, which 
flows from the fountains of Vaucluse. It is a very pic- 
turesque and pretty place. Great mill-wheels, turning 
slowly and constantly, stand at intervals in the stream, 
whose grassy banks are now as green as in springtime. We 
walked along the Sorgues — which is quite as beautiful and 
worthy to be sung as the Clitumnus — to the end of the vil- 
lage, to take the road to Vaucluse. Beside its banks stands 
a dirty modern " Hotel de Petrarque et Laure." Alas that 
the names of the most romantic and impassioned lovers of 
all history should be desecrated to a sign-post to allure gor- 
mandizing tourists ! 

The bare mountain in whose heart lies the poet's solitude 
now rose before us at the foot of the lofty Mount Ventoux, 
whose summit of snows extended beyond. We left the 
river, and walked over a barren plain across which the wind 
blew most drearily. The sky was rainy and dark, and com- 
pleted the desolateness of the scene, which in nowise height- 
ened our anticipations of the renowned glen. At length we 
rejoined the Sorgues and entered a little green valley run- 
ning up into the mountain. The narrowness of the en- 
trance entirely shut out the wind, and, except the rolling 



390 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

of the waters over their pebbly bed, all was still and lonely 
and beautiful. The sides of the dell were covered with 
olive trees, and a narrow strip of emerald meadow lay at 
the bottom. It grew more hidden and sequestered as we 
approached the little village of Vaucluse. Here the moun- 
tain towers ftir above, and precipices of gray rock many 
hundred feet high hang over the narrowing glen. On a 
crag over the village are the remains of a castle ; the slope 
below this, now rugged and stony, was once graced by the 
cottage and garden of Petrarch. All traces of them have 
long since vanished, but a simple column bearing the in- 
scription " A Petrarque " stands beside the Sorgues. 

We ascended into the defile by a path among the rocks, 
overshadowed by olive and wild fig trees, to the celebrated 
fountains of Vaucluse. The glen seems as if stuck into the 
mountain's depths by one blow of the enchanter's wand, and 
just at the end, where the rod might have rested in its 
downward sweep, is the fathomless well whose overbrim- 
ming fulness gives birth to the Sorgues. AVe climbed up 
over the mossy rocks and sat down in the grot beside the 
dark, still pool. It was the most absolute solitude. The 
rocks towered above and over us to the height of six hun- 
dred feet, and the gray walls of the wild glen below shut 
out all appearance of life. I leaned over the rock and 
drank of the blue crystal that grew gradually darker to- 
ward the centre till it became a mirror and gave back a 
perfect reflection of the crags above it. There was no bub- 
bling, no gushing up from its deep bosom, but the wealth 
of sparkling waters continually welled over as from a too- 
full goblet. 

It was with actual sorrow that I turned away from the 
silent spot. I never visited a place to which the fancy 
clung more suddenly and fondly. There is something holy 
in its solitude, making one envy Petrarch the years of calm 
and unsullied enjoyment which blessed him there. As 
Bome persons whom we pass as strangers strike a hidden 



EAINY GEEETING. 391 

chord in our spirits, compelling a silent sympathy with 
them, so some landscapes have a character of beauty which 
harmonizes thrillingly with the mood in which we look 
upon them, till we forget admiration in the glow of spon- 
taneous attachment. They seem like abodes of the Beauti- 
ful which the soul in its wanderings long ago visited, and 
how recognizes and loves as the home of a forgotten dream. 
It was thus I felt by the fountains of Vaucluse ; sadly and 
with weary steps I turned away, leaving its loneliness un- 
broken as before. 

We returned over the plain in the wind, under the 
gloomy sky, passed L'Isle at dusk, and after walking an 
hour with a rain following close behind us stopped at an 
auherge in Le Thor, where we rested our tired frames and 
broke our long day's fasting. We were greeted in the 
morning with a dismal rain and wet roads as we began the 
march. After a time, however, it poured down in such 
torrents that we were obliged to take shelter in a remise by 
the roadside, where a good woman who addressed us in the 
unintelligible Provenyal kindled up a blazing fire. On 
climbing a long hill when the storm had abated, we ex- 
perienced a delightful surprise. Below us lay the broad 
valley of the Khone, with its meadows looking fresh and 
spring-like after the rain. The clouds were breaking away ; 
clear blue sky was visible over Avignon, and a belt of sun- 
light lay warmly along the mountains of Languedoc. 
Many villages with their tall picturesque towers dotted the 
landscape, and the groves of green olive enlivened the bar- 
renness of winter. 

Two or three hours* walk over the plain by a road 
fringed with willows brought us to the gates of Avignon. 
We walked around its picturesque turreted wall and ram- 
bled through its narrow streets, washed here and there by 
streams which turn the old mill-wheels lazily around. We 
climbed up to the massive palace which overlooks the city 
from its craggy seat, attesting the splendor it enjoyed when 



392 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

for thirty years the papal court was held there and the 
gray, weatherbeaten, irregular building, resembling a pile 
of precipitous rocks, echoed with the revels of licentious 
prelates. We could not enter to learn the terrible secrets 
of the Inquisition here unveiled, but we looked up at the 
tower from which the captive Rienzi was liberated at the 
intercession of Petrarch. 

After leaving Avignon, we took the road up the Khone 
for Lyons, turning our backs upon the rainy south. We 
reached the village of Sorgues by dusk, and accepted the 
invitation of an old dame to lodge at her inn, which proved 
to be a blacksmith's shop. It was nevertheless clean and 
comfortable, and we sat down in one corner, out of the 
reach of the shower of sparks which flew hissing from a 
red-hot horseshoe that the smith and his apprentice were 
hammering. A Piedmontese pedler who carried the " Song 
of the Holy St. Philomene " to sell among the peasants 
came in directly, and bargained for a sleep on some hay for 
two sous. For a bed in the loft over the shop we were 
charged five sous each, which, with seven sous for supper, 
made our expenses for the night about eleven cents. Our 
circumstances demanded the greatest economy, and we 
began to fear whether even this spare allowance would 
enable us to reach Lyons. Owing to a day's delay in Mar- 
seilles, we had left that city with but fifteen francs each ; 
the incessant storms of winter and the worn-out state of 
our shoes, which were no longer proof against water or 
mud, prolonged our journey considerably ; so that by start- 
ing before dawn and walking till dark we were only able to 
make thirty miles a day. We could always procure beds 
for five sous, and, as in the country inns one is only charged 
for what he chooses to order, our frugal suppers cost us but 
little. We purchased bread and cheese in the villages, and 
made our breakfasts and dinners on a bank by the roadside 
or climbed the rocks and sat down by the source of some 
trickling rill. This simple fare had an excellent relish, 



HUMAN SYMPATHY. 393 

and, although we walked in wet clothes from morning till 
night, often lying down on the damp, cold earth to rest, our 
health was never affected. 

It is worth all the toil and privation we have as yet un- 
dergone to gain from actual experience the blessed knowl- 
edge that man always retains a kindness and brotherly 
sympathy toward his fellow — that under all the weight of 
vice and misery which a grinding oppression of soul and 
body brings on the laborers of earth there still remain 
many bright tokens of a better nature. Among the starv- 
ing mountaineers of the Hartz, the degraded peasantry of 
Bohemia, the savage contadini of Central Italy or the 
dwellers on the hills of Provence and beside the swift 
Rhone we almost invariably found kind, honest hearts and 
an aspiration for something better, betokening the con- 
sciousness that such brute-like, obedient existence was not 
their proper destiny. We found few so hardened as to be 
insensible to a kind look or a friendly word, and nothing 
made us forget we were among strangers so much as the 
many tokens of sympathy which met us when least looked 
for. A young Englishman who had travelled on foot from 
Geneva to Rome, enduring many privations on account of 
his reduced circumstances, said to me, while speaking on 
this subject, "A single word of kindness from a stranger 
would make my heart warm and my spirits cheerful for days 
afterward." There is not so much evil in man as men would 
have us believe, and it is a happy comfort to know and feel 
this. 

Leaving our little inn before daybreak next morning, we 
crossed the Sorgues, grown muddy since its infancy at Vau- 
cluse, like many a young soul whose mountain-purity goes 
out into the soiling world and becomes sullied for ever. 
The road passed over broad, barren ranges of hills, and the 
landscape was destitute of all interest till Ave approached 
Orange. This city is built at the foot of a rocky height, a 
great square projection of which seemed to stand in its 



394 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

midst. As we approached nearer, however, arches and lines 
of cornice could be discerned, and we recognized it as the 
celebrated amphitheatre — one of the grandest Roman relics 
in the South of France. I stood at the foot of this great 
fabric and gazed up at it in astonishment. The exterior wall, 
three hundred and thirty-four feet in length and rising to 
the height of one hundred and twenty-one feet, is still in 
excellent preservation, and through its rows of solid arches 
one looks on the broken ranges of seats within. On the 
crag above, and looking as if about to topple down on it, 
is a massive fragment of the fortress of the princes of Or- 
ange, razed by Louis XIV. 

Passing through the city, we came to the beautiful Ro- 
man triumphal arch, which to my eye is a finer structure 
than that of Constantine at Rome. It is built of a rich 
yellow marble and highly ornamented with sculptured tro- 
phies. From the barbaric shields and the letters " Mario," 
still remaining, it has been supposed to commemorate the 
victory of Marius over the barbarians near Aix. A frieze 
running along the top on each side shows, although broken 
and much defaced by the weather, the life and action which 
once marked the struggling figures. These Roman ruins 
scattered through Provence and Languedoc, though infe- 
rior in historical interest, equal in architectural beauty the 
greater part of those in the Eternal City itself. 

The rest of the day the road was monotonous, though 
varied somewhat by the tall crags of Mornas and Mont- 
dragon, towering over the villages of the same name. Night 
came on as the rock of Pierrelatte, at whose foot we were to 
sleep, appeared in the distance, rising like a Gibraltar from 
the plain, and we only reached it in time to escape the rain 
that came down the valley of the Rhone. 

Next day we passed several companies of soldiers on 
their way to Africa. One of them was accompanied by a 
young girl, apparently the wife of the recruit by whose side 
she was marching. She wore the tight blue jacket of the 



VALENCE. 395 

troop, and a red skirt, reaching to the knees, over her sol- 
dier pantaloons, while her pretty face showed to advantage 
beneath a small military cap. It was a Fille du Regiment 
in real life. Near Montelimart we lost sight of Mont Ven- 
toux, whose gleaming white crest had been visible all the 
way from Vaucluse, and passed along the base of a range 
of hills running near to the river. So went our march 
without particular incident till we bivouacked for the night 
among a company of soldiers in the little village of Loriol. 

Leaving at six o'clock, wakened by the trumpets which 
called up the soldiery to their day's march, we reached the 
river Drome at dawn, and from the bridge over its rapid 
current gazed at the dim, ash-colored masses of the Alps 
of Dauphine, piled along the sky, far up the valley. The 
coming of morn threw a yellow glow along their snowy 
sides, and lighted up here and there a flashing glacier. The 
peasantry were already up and at work, and caravans of 
pack-wagons rumbled along in the morning twilight. We 
trudged on with them, and by breakfast-time had made 
some distance of the way to Valence. The road, which does 
not approach the Rhone, is devoid of interest and tiresome, 
though under a summer sky, when the bare vine-hills are 
latticed over with green and the fruit trees covered with 
blossoms and foliage, it might be a scene of great beauty. 

Valence, which we reached toward noon, is a common- 
place city on the Rhone, and my only reasons for traversing its 
dirty streets in preference to taking the road, which passes 
without the walls, were to get something for dinner and be- 
cause it might have been the birthplace of Aymer de Va- 
lence, the valorous crusader chronicled in Ivanhoe, whose 
tomb I had seen in Westminster Abbey. One of the streets 
— which was marked " Rue Bayard " — shows that my val- 
iant namesake the knight without fear and reproach is 
still remembered in his native province. The ruins of 
his chateau are still standing among the Alps near Gre- 
noble. 



396 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

In the afternoon we crossed tlie Isere, a swift, muddy 
river which rises among the Alps of Dauphine. We saw 
their icy range, among which is the desert solitude of the 
Grand Chartreuse, far up the valley ; but the thick atmo- 
sphere hid the mighty Mont Blanc, whose cloudy outline, 
eighty miles distant in a " bee-line," is visible in fair 
weather. At Tain we came upon the Khone again, and 
walked along the base of the hills which contract its cur- 
rent. Here I should call it beautiful. The scenery has a 
wildness that approaches to that of the Rhine. Rocky, 
castellated heights frown over the rushing waters, which 
have something of the majesty of their " exulting and 
abounding rival." Winding around the curving hills, the 
scene is constantly varied, and the little willowed islets 
clasped in the embrace of the stream mingle a trait of soft- 
ened beauty with its sterner character. 

After passing the night at a village on its banks, we left 
it again at St. Vallier the next morning. At sunset the 
spires of Vienne were visible, and the lofty Mont Pilas, the 
snows of whose riven summits feed the springs of the Loire 
on its western side, stretched majestically along the oppo- 
site bank of the Rhone. In a meadow near Vienne stands 
a curious Roman obelisk seventy-six feet in height. Th-e 
base is composed of four pillars connected by arches, and 
the whole structure has a barbaric air compared with the 
more elegant monuments of Orange and Nismes. Vienne, 
which is mentioned by several of the Roman historians un- 
der its present name, was the capital of the Allobroges, and 
I looked upon it with a new and strange interest on calling 
to mind my schoolboy-days, when I had become familiar 
with that warlike race in toiling over the pages of Csesar. 
We walked in the mud and darkness for what seemed a 
great distance, and finally took shelter in a little inn at the 
northern end of the city. Two Belgian soldiers coming 
from Africa were already quartered there, and we listened 



EEDUCED CIECUMSTANCES. 397 

to their tales of the Arab and the desert while supper was 
preparing. 

The morning of the 25th was dull and rainy. The road, 
very muddy and unpleasant, led over the hills, avoiding 
the westward curve of the Rhone, directly toward Lyons. 
About noon we came in sight of the broad valley in which 
the Rhone first clasps his Burgundian bride the Saone, and 
a cloud of impenetrable coal-smoke showed us the location 
of Lyons. A nearer approach revealed a large flat dome, 
and some ranges of tall buildings near the river. We soon 
entered the suburb of La Guillotiere, which has sprung up 
on the eastern bank of the Rhone. Notwithstanding our 
clothes were like sponges, our boots entirely worn out and 
our bodies somewhat thin with nine days' exposure to the 
wintry storms in walking two hundred and forty miles, we 
entered Lyons with suspense and anxiety. But one franc 
apiece remained out of the fifteen with which we left Mar- 
seilles. B wrote home some time ago, directing a re- 
mittance to be forwarded to a merchant at Paris to whom 
he had a letter of introduction, and in the hope that this 
had arrived he determined to enclose the letter in a note, 
stating our circumstances, and requesting him to forward a 
part of the remittance to Lyons. We had then to wait at 
least four days. People are suspicious and mistrustful in 
cities ; and if no relief should come, what was to be done ? 

After wading through the mud of the suburbs, we chose 
a common-looking inn near the river, as the comfort of our 
stay depended wholly on the kindness of our hosts, and we 
hoped to find more sympathy among the laboring classes. 
We engaged lodgings for four or five days. After dinner 
the letter was despatched, and we wandered about through 
the dark, dirty city until night. Our landlord. Monsieur 
Ferrand, was a rough, vigorous man with a gloomy, discon- 
tented expression. His words were few and blunt, but a 
certain restlessness of manner and a secret flashing of his 
cold, forbidding eye betrayed to me some strong hidden ex- 



398 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

citement. Madame Ferrand was kind and talkative, though 
passionate ; but the appearance of the place gave me an 
unfavorable impression which was heightened by the thought 
that it was now impossible to change our lodgings until re- 
lief should arrive. 

When bedtime came, a ladder was placed against a sort 
of high platform along one side of the kitchen ; we mounted, 
and found a bed concealed from the view of those below by 
a dusty muslin curtain. We lay there between heaven and 
earth — the dirty earth of the brick floor and the sooty 
heaven of the ceiling — listening until midnight to the bois- 
terous songs and loud, angry disputes in the room adjoining. 
Thus ended our first day in Lyons. 

Five weary days, each of them containing a month of 
torturing suspense, have since passed. Our lodging-place 
grew so unpleasant that w^e preferred wandering all day 
through the misty, muddy, smoky streets, taking refuge in 
the covered bazaars when it rained heavily. The gloom of 
everything around us entirely smothered down the lightness 
of heart which made us laugh over our embarrassments at 
Vienna. When, at evening, the dull, leaden hue of the 
clouds seemed to make the air dark and cold and heavy, 
we walked beside the swollen and turbid Rhone, under an 
avenue of leafless trees, the damp soil chilling our feet and 
striking a numbness through our frames, and then I knew 
what those must feel who have no hope in their destitution, 
and not a friend in all the great world who is not wretched 
as themselves. I prize the lesson, though the price of it is 
hard. 

" This morning," I said to B , " will terminate our 

suspense." I felt cheerful in spite of myself, and this was 
like a presentiment of coming good luck. To pass the time 
till the mail arrived we climbed to the chapel of Fourvi^res, 
whose walls are covered with votive offerings to a miracu- 
lous picture of the Virgin. But at the precise hour we were 
at the post-office. What an intensity of suspense can be felt 



CHANGED FEELINCxS. 399 

in that minute while the clerk is looking over the letters ! 
And what a lightning-like shock of joy when it did come 
and was opened with eager, trembling hands, revealing the 
relief we had almost despaired of! The city did not seem 
less gloomy, for that was impossible, but the faces of the 
crowd, which had appeared cold and suspicious, were now 
kind and cheerful. We came home to our lodgings with 
changed feelings, and Madame Ferrand must have seen the 
joy in our faces, for she greeted us with an unusual smile. 

We leave to-morrow morning for Chalons. I do not feel 
disposed to describe Lyons particularly, although I have 
become intimately acquainted with every part of it, from 
Presqu' isle Perrache to Croix Rousse. I know the contents 
of every shop in the bazaar and the passage of the Hotel 
Dieu, the title of every volume in the bookstores in the 
Place Belcour and the countenance of every boot-black and 
apple-woman on the quais on both sides of the river. I 
have walked up the Saone to Pierre Seise, down the Rhone 
to his muddy marriage, climbed the heights of Fourvieres 
and promenaded in the Cours Napoleon. Why, men have 
been presented with the freedom of cities when they have 
had far less cause for such an honor than this ! 



CHAPTER XLIV. 

TRAVELLING IN BURGUNDY. —THE MISERIES OF A COUN- 
TRY DILIGENCE. 

Paris, Feb. 6, 1846. 

Every letter of the date is traced with an emotion of 
joy, for our dreary journey is over. There was a magic in 
the name that revived us during a long journey, and now 
the thought that it is all over — that these walls which en- 
close us stand in the heart of the gay city — seems almost 



400 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

too joyful to be true. Yesterday I marked with the 
whitest chalk on the blackest of all tablets to make the 
contrast greater, for I got out of the cramped diligence at 
the Barriere de Charenton, and saw before me in the morn- 
ing twilight the immense gray mass of Paris. I forgot my 
numbed and stiffened frame, and every other of the thou- 
sand disagreeable feelings of diligence-travelling, in the 
pleasure which that sight afforded. 

We arose in the dark at Lyons, and after bidding adieu 
to morose Monsieur Ferrand traversed the silent city and 
found our way in the mist and gloom to the steamboat- 
landing on the Saone. The waters were swollen and much 
above their usual level, which was favorable for the boat 
as long as there was room enough left to pass under the 
bridges. After a great deal of bustle we got under way, 
and were dashing out of Lyons, against the swift current, 
before daybreak. We passed L'Isle Barbe, once a favorite 
residence of Charlemagne, and now the haunt of the Lyon- 
naise on summer holidays, and, going under the suspension 
bridges with levelled chimneys, entered the picturesque 
hills above, which are covered with vineyards nearly to the 
top. The villages scattered over them have those square- 
pointed towers which give such a quaintness to French 
country scenery. 

The stream being very high, the m.eadows on both sides 
were deeply overflowed. To avoid the strong current in 
the centre, our boat ran along the banks, pushing aside the 
alder thickets and poplar shoots; in passing the bridges 
the pipes w^ere always brought down flat on the deck. A 
little after noon Ave passed the large town of Macon, the 
birthplace of the poet Lamartine. The valley of the 
Saone, no longer enclosed among the hills, spread out to 
several miles in width. Along the west lay in sunshine the 
vine-mountains of Cote d'Or, and among the dark clouds 
in the eastern sky we could barely distinguish the outline 
of the Jura. The waters were so much swollen as to cover 



STEOLLING MUSICIANS. 401 

the plain for two or three miles. We seemed to be sailing 
down a lake with rows of trees springing up out of the 
water and houses and villages lying like islands on its sur- 
face. A sunset that promised better weather tinged the 
broad brown flood as Chalons came in sight, looking like a 
city built along the shore of a lake. We squeezed through 
the crowd of porters and diligence-men, declining their 
kind offers, and hunted quarters to suit ourselves. 

We left Chalons on the morning of the 1st in high spir- 
its at the thought that there were but little more than two 
hundred miles between us and Paris. In walking over the 
cold, muddy plain we passed a family of strolling musi- 
cians who were sitting on a heap of stones by the roadside. 
An ill-dressed, ill-natured man and woman, each carrying 
a violin, and a thin, squalid girl with a tambourine, com- 
posed the group. Their faces bore that unfeeling stamp 
which springs from depravity and degradation. When we 
had walked somewhat more than a mile, we overtook a lit- 
tle girl who was crying bitterly. By her features, from 
which the fresh beauty of childhood had not been worn, 
and the steel triangle which was tied to her belt, we knew 
she belonged to the family we had passed. Her dress was 
thin and ragged, and a pair of wooden shoes but ill pro- 
tected her feet from the sharp cold. I stopped and asked 
her why she cried, but she did not at first answer. How- 
ever, by questioning, I found her unfeeling parents had 
sent her on without food ; she was sobbing with hunger and 
cold. Our pockets were full of bread and cheese which we 
had bought for breakfast, and we gave her half a loaf, 
which stopped her tears at once. She looked up and 
thanked us, smiling, and, sitting down on a bank, began 
to eat as if half famished. 

The physiognomy of this region is very singular. It ap- 
pears as if the country had been originally a vast elevated 
plain and some great power had scooped out as with a hand 
deep circular valleys all over its surface. In winding along 
26 



402 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

the high ridges we often looked down on either side into 
such hollows, several miles in diameter, and sometimes en- 
tirely covered with vineyards. At La Rochepot, a quaint, 
antique village lying in the bottom of one of these dells, we 
saw the finest ruin of the Middle Ages that I have met with 
in France. An American lady had spoken to me of it in 
Rome, and I believe Willis mentions it in his Pencillings ; 
but it is not described in the guide-books, nor could we learn 
what feudal lord had ever dwelt in its halls. It covers the 
summit of a stately rock at whose foot the village is crouch- 
ed, and the green ivy climbs up to the very top of its gray 
towers. 

As the road makes a wide curve around the side of the 
hill, we descended to the village by the nearer footpath, and 
passed among its low old houses with their pointed gables 
and mossy roofs. The path led close along the foot of the 
rock, and we climbed up to the ruin and stood in its grass- 
grown court-yard. Only the outer walls and the round 
towers at each corner are left remaining ; the inner part has 
been razed to the ground, and where proud barons once 
marshalled their vassals the villagers now play their holiday 
games. On one side several Gothic windows are left stand- 
ing, perfect, though of simple construction, and in the tow- 
ers we saw many fireplaces and doorways of richly-cut stone 
which looked as fresh as if just erected. 

We passed the night at Ivry (not the Ivry which gained 
Henri Quatre his kingdom), and then continued our march 
over roads which I can -only compare to our country roads 
in America during the spring thaw. In addition to this, 
the rain commenced early in the morning and continued all 
day ; so that we were completely wet the whole time. The 
plains, too high and cold to produce wine, were varied by 
forests of beech and oak, and the population was thinly 
scattered over them in small villages. Tiavellers generally 
complain very much of the monotony of this part of France, 



A PITILESS STOEM. 403 

and, with such dreary weather, we could not disagree with 
them. 

As the day wore on the rain increased and the sky put 
on that dull gray cast which denotes a lengthened storm. 
We were fain to stop at nightfall, but there was no inn near 
at hand — not even a hovel of a cabaret — in which to shelter 
ourselves, and on inquiring of the wagoners we received the 
comforting assurance that there was yet a league and a half 
to the nearest stopping-place. On, then, we went with the 
pitiless storm beating in our faces and on our breasts, till 
there was not a dry spot left except what our knapsacks 
covered. We could not have been more completely satu- 
rated if we had been dipped in the Yonne. At length, after 
two hours of slipping and sliding along in the mud and wet 
and darkness, we reached Saulieu, and by the warm fire 
thanked our stars that the day's dismal tramp was over. 

By good or bad luck (I have not yet decided which), a 
vehicle was to start the next morning for Auxerre, distant 
sixty miles, and, the fare being but five francs, we thought 
it wisest to take places. It was always with reluctance that 
v/e departed from our usual mode of travelling, but in the 
present instance the circumstances absolutely compelled it. 

Next morning, at sunrise, we took our seats in a large 
square vehicle on two wheels calculated for six persons and 
a driver with a single horse. But, as he was fat and round 
as an elephant and started off at a brisk pace, and we were well 
protected from the rain, it was not so bad, after all, barring 
the jolts and jarred vertebrae. We drove on over the same 
dreary expanse of plain and forest, passing through two or 
three towns in the course of the day, and by evening had 
made somewhat more than half our journey. Owing to 
the slowness of our fresh horse we were jolted about the 
whole night, and didnot arrive at Auxerre until six o'clock 
in the morning. After waiting an hour in a hotel beside 
the rushing Yonne a lumbering diligence was got ready, 
and we were given places to Paris for seven francs. As the 



404 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

distance is one hundred and ten miles, this would be con- 
sidered cheap ; but I should not want to travel it again and 
be paid for doing so. Twelve persons were packed into a 
box not large enough for a cow, and no cabinet-maker ever 
dovetailed the corners of his bureaus tighter than we did 
our knees and nether extremities. It is my lot to be bless- 
ed with abundance of stature, and none but tall persons 
can appreciate the misery of sitting for hours with their 
joints in an immovable vise. The closeness of the atmo- 
sphere — for the passengers would not permit the windows 
to be opened, for fear of taking cold — combined with loss 
of sleep, made me so drowsy that my head was continually 
falling on my next neighbor, who, being a heavy country- 
lady, thrust it indignantly away. I would then try my 
best to keep it up a while, but it would droop gradually, till 
the crash of a bonnet or a smart bump against some other 
head would recall me for a moment to consciousness. 

We passed Joigny, on the Yonne, Sens, with its glorious 
old cathedral, and at dusk reached Montereau, on the Seine. 
This was the scene of one of Napoleon's best victories on 
his return from Elba. In driving over the bridge I looked 
down on the swift and swollen current, and hoped that its 
hue might never be darkened again so fearfully as the last 
sixty years have witnessed. No river in Europe has such 
an association connected with it. We think of the Danube 
for its majesty, of the Rhine for its wild beauty, but of the 
Seine — for its blood ! 

In coming thus to the last famed stream I shall visit in 
Europe, I might say, with Barry Cornwall, 

"We've sailed through banks of green, 
Where the wild waves fret and quiver, 

And we've down the Danube been — 
The dark, deep, thundering river ; 

We've thridded the Elbe and Rhone, 
The Tiber and blood-dyed Seine, 



AN IGNOEANT CONDUCTOR. 405 

And we've been where the blue Garonne 
Goes laughing to meet the main." 

All that night did we endure squeezing and suffocation, 
and no morn was ever more welcome than that which re- 
vealed to us Paris. With matted hair, wild, glaring eyes 
and dusty and dishevelled habiliments we entered the gay 
capital, and blessed every stone upon which we placed our 
feet, in the fulness of our joy. 

In paying our fare at Auxerre, I was obliged to use a 
draft on the banker Kougemont de Lowenberg. The ig- 
norant conductor hesitated to change this, but permitted 
us to go on condition of keeping it until we should arrive. 
Therefore, on getting out of the diligence, after forty-eight 
hours of sleepless and fasting misery, the /ac^ewr of the office 

went with me to get it paid, leaving B to wait for us. 

I knew nothing of Paris, and this merciless man kept me 
for three hours at his heels, following him on all his errands 
before he did mine, in that time traversing the whole length 
of the city in order to leave a chevre-feuille at an aristocratic 
residence in the Faubourg St. Germain. Yet even combined 
weariness and hunger could not prevent me from looking 
with vivid interest down a long avenue at the column of 
the Place Vendome in passing, and gazing up in wonder at 
the splendid portico of the Madeleine. But of anything else 
I have a very faint remembrance. " You can eat breakfast 
now, I think," said he, when we returned : " we have walked 
more than four leagues." 

I know we will be excused that, instead of hurrying away 
to Notre Dame or the Louvre, we sat down quietly to 
a most complete breakfast. Even the most romantic must 
be forced to confess that admiration does not sit well on an 
empty stomach. Our first walk was to a bath, and then, 
with complexions several shades lighter and limbs that felt 
as if lifted by invisible wings, we hurried away to the post- 
office. I seized the welcome missives from my far home 



406 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

with a beating heart, and, hastening back, read till the 
words became indistinct in the twilight. 



CHAPTER XLV. 

POETICAL SCENES IN PARIS. 

What a gay little world in miniature this is ! I wonder 
not that the French, with their exuberant gayety of spirit, 
should revel in its ceaseless tides of pleasure as if it were an 
earthly Elysium. I feel already the influence of its cheer- 
ful atmosphere, and have rarely threaded the crowds of a 
stranger-city with so light a heart as I do now daily on the 
thronged banks of the Seine. And yet it would be difficult 
to describe wherein consists this agreeable peculiarity. You 
can find streets as dark and crooked and dirty anywhere in 
Germany, and squares and gardens as gay and sunny beyond 
the Alps, and yet they would affect you far differently. You 
could not, as here, divest yourself of every particle of sad 
or serious thought and be content to gaze for hours on the 
showy scene without an idea beyond the present moment. 
It must be that the spirit of the crowd is magnetically 
contagious. 

The evening of our arrival we walked out past the mass- 
ive and stately H6tel de Ville and took a promenade along 
the quais. The shops facing the river presented a scene of 
great splendor. Several of the quais on the north bank of 
the Seine are occupied almost entirely by jewellers, the win- 
dows of whose shops, arranged in a style of the greatest 
taste, make a dazzling display. Rows of gold watches and 
chains are arranged across the crystal panes and heaped in 
pyramids on long glass slabs ; cylindrical wheels of wire 
hung with jewelled breastpins and earrings turn slowly 



NOTKE DAME. 407 

around by some invisible agency, displaying row after row 
of their glittering treasures. 

From the centre of the Pont Neuf we could see for a long 
distance up and down the river. The different bridges 
traced on either side a dozen starry lines through the dark 
air, and a continued blaze lighted the two shores in their 
whole length, revealing the outline of the Isle de la Cit4» 
I recognized the palaces of the Louvre and the Tuileries in 
the dusky mass beyond. Eastward, looming against the 
dark sky, I could faintly trace the black towers of Notre 
Dame. The rushing of the swift waters below mingled with 
the rattling of a thousand carts and carriages and the con- 
fusion of a thousand voices till it seemed like some grand 
nightly festival. 

I first saw Notre Dame by moonlight. The shadow of 
its stupendous front was thrown directly toward me, hiding 
the innumerable lines of the ornamental sculpture which 
cover its tall, square towers. I walked forward until the 
interlacing Moorish arches between them stood full against 
the moon, and the light, struggling through the quaint 
openings of the tracery, streamed in silver lines down into 
the shadow. The square before it was quite deserted, for 
it stands on a lonely part of the Isle de la Cite, and it looked 
thus far more majestic and solemn than in the glaring day- 
light. • 

The great quadrangle of the Tuileries encloses the Place 
du Carrousel, in the centre of which stands a triumphal arch 
erected by Napoleon after his Italian victories. Standing 
in the middle of this arch, you look through the open pass- 
age in the central building of the palace into the gardens 
beyond. Farther on, in a direct line, the middle avenue of 
the gardens extends away to the Place de la Concorde, 
where the obelisk of Luxor makes a perpendicular line 
through your vista ; still farther goes the broad avenue 
through the Elysian Fields, until afar off the Arc de 



408 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

I'Etoile — two miles distant — closes this view through the 
palace doorway. 

Let us go through it, and on to the Place de la Concorde, 
reserving the gardens for another time. What is there in 
Europe — nay, in the world, — equal to this? In the centre 
the mighty obelisk of red granite pierces the sky ; on either 
hand showers of silver spray are thrown up from splendid 
bronze fountains ; statues and pillars of gilded bronze sweep 
in a grand circle around the square, and on each side magnif- 
icent vistas lead the eye off and combine the distant with 
the near to complete this unparalleled view. Eastward, 
beyond the tall trees in the garden of the Tuileries, rises the 
long front of the palace, with the tri-color floating above ; 
westward, in front of us, is the forest of the Elysian Fields, 
with the Arch of Triumph — nearly a mile and a half dis- 
tant — looking down from the end of the avenue, at the 
Barri^re de Neuilly. To the right and left are the marble 
fronts of the church of the Madeleine and the chamber of 
deputies, the latter on the other side of the Seine. Thus 
the groves and gardens of Paris, the palace of her kings, 
the proud monument of her sons' glory and the masterpieces 
of modern French architecture are all embraced in this one 
splendid coup d'ceil. 

Following the motley multitude to the bridge, I crossed 
and made my way to the Hotel des Invalides. Along the 
esplanade playful companies of children were running and 
tumbling in their sports over the green turf, which was as 
fresh as a meadow, while — not the least interesting feature 
of the scene — numbers of scarred and disabled veterans in 
the livery of the hospital basked in the sunshine, watching 
with quiet satisfaction the gambols of the second generation 
they have seen arise. What tales could they not tell, those 
wrinkled and feeble old men ! What visions of Marengo 
and Austerlitz and Borodino shift still with a fiery vivid- 
ness through their fading memories ! Some may have left 
a limb on the Lybian desert, and the sabre of the Cossack 



PERE LA CHAISE. 409 

may have scarred the brows of others. They witnessed the 
rising and setting of that great meteor which intoxicated 
France with such a blaze of power and glory, and now, when 
the recollection of that wonderful period seems almost like a 
stormy dream, they are left to guard the ashes of their an- 
cient general, brought back from his exile to rest in the 
bosom of his own French people. It was to me a touching 
and exciting thing to look on those whose eyes had wit- 
nessed the filling up of such a fated leaf in the world's 
history. 

Entrance is denied to the tomb of Napoleon until it is 
finished, which will not be for three or four years yet. I 
went, however, into the " Church of the Banners " — a large 
chapel hung with two or three hundred flags taken by the 
armies of the empire. The greater part of them were Aus- 
trian and Eussian. It appeared to be empty when I en- 
tered, but on looking around I saw an old gray-headed sol- 
dier kneeling at one side. His head was bowed over his 
hands, and he seemed perfectly absorbed in his thoughts. 
Perhaps the very tattered banners which hung down mo- 
tionless above his head he might have assisted in conquer- 
ing. I looked a moment on those eloquent trophies, and 
then noiselessly withdrew. 

There is at least one solemn spot near Paris : the laugh- 
ing winds that come up from the merry city sink into sighs 
under the cypress boughs of Pere La Chaise. And yet it 
is not a gloomy place, but full of a serious beauty fitting 
for a city of the dead. I shall never forget the sunny after- 
noon when I first entered its gate and walked slowly up the 
hill between rows of tombs gleaming white amid the heavy 
foliage, while the green turf around them was just begin- 
ning to be starred by the opening daisies. From the little 
chapel on its summit I looked back at the blue spires of the 
city, whose roar of life dwindled to a low murmur. Count- 
less pyramids, obelisks and urns rising far and wide above 
the cedars and cypresses showed the extent of the splendid 



410 VIEWS a-foot! 

necropolis which is inhabited by pale shrouded emigrants 
from its living sister below. The only sad part of the 
view was the slope of the hill allotted to the poor, where 
legions of plain black crosses are drawn up into solid 
squares on its side and stand alone and gloomy — the ad- 
vanced guard of the army of Death. I mused over the 
tombs of Moliere and La Fontaine, Massena, Mortier and 
Lefebre, General Foy and Casimir Perier, and finally de- 
scended to the shrine where Abelard reposes by the side of 
his Heloise. The old sculptured tomb brought away from 
the Paraclete still covers their remains, and pious hands 
(of lovers, perhaps) keep fresh the wreaths of immortelles 
above their marble effigies. 

In the Theatre Frangais, I saw Rachel, the actress. She 
appeared in the character of " Virginia " in a tragedy of that 
name by the poet Latour. Her appearance as she came 
upon the stage alone convijiced me she would not belie her 
renown. She is rather small in stature, with dark piercing 
eyes a.nd rich black hair ; her lips are full, but delicately 
formed, and her features have a marked yet flexible out- 
line which conveys the minutest shades of expression. Her 
voice is clear, deep and thrilling, and, like some grand 
strain of music, there are power and meaning in its slightest 
modulations. Her gestures embody the very spirit of the 
character ; she has so perfectly attained that rare harmony 
of thought, sound and action — or, rather, that unity of feel- 
ing — ^which renders them harmonious that her acting seems 
the unstudied, irrepressible impulse of her soul. With the 
first sentence she uttered I forgot Rachel ; I only saw the 
innocent Roman girl. I awaited in suspense and with a 
powerful sympathy the development of the oft-told tragedy. 
My blood grew warm with indignation when the words of 
Appius roused her to anger, and I could scarcely keep back 
my tears when, with a voice broken by sobs, she bade fare- 
well to the protecting gods of her father's hearth. 

Among the bewildering variety of ancient ornaments and 



THE GAEDEN OF THE TUILEEIES. 411 

implements in the Egyptian Gallery of the Louvre, I saw 
an object of startling interest — a fragment of the Iliady 
written nearly three thousand years ago. One may even 
dare to conjecture that the torn and half-mouldered slip of 
papyrus upon which he gazes may have been taken down 
from the lips of the immortal Chian. The eyes look on those 
faded characters, and across the great gulf of Time the 
soul leaps into the past, brought into shadowy nearness by 
a mirage of the mind. There, as in the desert, images start 
up, vivid, yet of a vague and dreamy beauty. We see the 
olive groves of Greece. White-robed youths and maidens 
sit in the shade of swaying boughs, and one of them reads 
aloud, in words that sound like the clashing of shields, the 
deeds of Achilles. 

As we step out the western portal of the Tuileries a beau- 
tiful scene greets us. We look on the palace-garden, fra- 
grant with flowers and classic with bronze copies of ancient 
sculpture. Beyond this broad gravel-walks divide the 
flow^er-bordered lawns, and ranks of marble demigods and 
heroes look down on the joyous crowd. Children troll their 
hoops along the avenues or skip the rope under the clipped 
lindens, whose boughs are now tinged a pale yellow by the 
bursting buds. The swans glide about on a pond in the 
centre, begging bread of the bystanders, who watch a min- 
iature ship which the soft breeze carries steadily across. 
Paris is unseen, but heard, on every side ; only the Column 
of Luxor and the Arc de Triomphe rise blue and grand 
above the top of the forest. What wath the sound of 
voices, the merry laughter of the children and a host of 
smiling faces, the scene touches a happy chord in one's 
heart, and he mingles v/ith it, lost in pleasant reverie, till 
the sounds fade away with the fading light. 

Just below the baths of the Louvre there are several 
floating barges, belonging to the washerwomen, anchored at 
the foot of the great stone staircase leading down to the 
water. They stand there day after day, beating their clothes 



412 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

upon flat boards and rinsing them in the Seine. One day 
there seemed to have been a wedding or some other cause 
of rejoicing among them, for a large number of the young- 
est were talking in great glee on one of the platforms of 
the staircase, while a handsome German-looking youth 
stood near with a guitar slung around his neck. He struck 
up a lively air, and the girls fell into a droll sort of a dance. 
They went at it heavily and roughly enough, but made up 
in good-humor what they lacked in grace. The older mem- 
bers of the craft looked up from their work with satisfac- 
tion, and many shouts of applause were sent down to them 
from the spectators on the quai and the Pont Neuf. Not 
content with this, they seized on some luckless men who 
were descending the steps, and, clasping them with their 
powerful right arms, spun them around like so many tops 
and sent them whizzing off at a tangent. Loud bursts of 
laughter greeted this performance, and the stout river- 
maidens returned to their dance with redoubled spirit. 

Yesterday the famous procession of the Boeuf Gras took 
place for the second time, with great splendor. The order 
of march had been duly announced beforehand, and by 
noon all the streets and squares through which it was to 
pass were crowded with waiting spectators. Mounted geiis- 
d'armes rode constantly to and fro to direct the passage of 
vehicles and keep an open thoroughfare. Thousands of 
country peasants poured into the city, the boys of whom 
were seen in all directions blowing distressingly through 
hollow ox-horns. Altogether, the spirit of nonsense which 
animated the crowd displayed itself very amusingly. 

A few mounted guards led the procession, followed by a 
band of music. Then appeared Eoman lictors and officers 
of sacrifice, leading Dagobert, the famous bull of Normandy, 
destined to the honor of being slaughtered as the Carnival 
beef. He trod rather tenderly, finding, no doubt, a differ- 
ence between the meadows of Caen and the pavements of 
Paris, and I thought he would have been willing to forego 



CAENIVAL SCENES. 413 

his gilded horns and flowery crown to get back there again. 
His weight was said to be four thousand pounds, and the 
bills pompously declared that he had no rival in France 
except the elephant in the Jardin des Plantes. 

After him came the farmer by whom he was raised, and 
M. Roland, the butcher of the Carnival, followed by a 
hundred of the same craft dressed as cavaliers of the dif- 
ferent ages of France, They made a very showy appear- 
ance, although the faded velvet and soiled tinsel of their 
mantles were rather too apparent by daylight. 

After all these had gone by came an enormous triumphal 
car very profusely covered with gilding and ornamental 
flowers. A fellow with long woollen hair and beard, in- 
tended to represent Time, acted as driver. In the car, un- 
der a gilded canopy, reposed a number of persons in blue 
silk smocks and yellow flesh-tights, said to beVenus, Apollo, 
the Graces, etc., but I endeavored in vain to distinguish one 
divinity from another. However, three children on the 
back seat dressed in the same style, with the addition of 
long flaxy ringlets, made very passable Cupids. This 
closed the march, which passed onward toward the Place 
de la Concorde accompanied by the sounds of music and 
the shouts of the mob. The broad splendid line of boule- 
vards which describe a semicircle around the heart of the 
city were crowded, and for the whole distance of three miles 
it required no slight labor to make one's way. People in 
masks and fancy costumes were continually passing and re- 
passing, and I detected in more than one of the carriages 
cheeks rather too fair to suit the slouched hunter's hats 
which shaded them. It seemed as if all Paris was taking 
holiday and resolved to make the most of it. 



414 VIEWS A-FOOT. . 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

A GLIMPSE OF NORMANDY. 

After a residence of five weeks — which, iiv spite of 
some few troubles, passed away quickly and deligKifully — I 
turned my back on Paris. It was not regret I experienced 
on taking my seat in the cars for Versailles, but that feel- 
ing of reluctance with which we leave places wh<yse bright- 
ness and gayety force the mind away from serious toil. 
Steam, however, cuts short all sentiment, and in much less 
time than it takes to bid farewell to a German we had 
whizzed past the Place d' Europe, through the barrier, and 
were watching the spires start up from the receding city, 
on the way to St. Cloud. 

At Versailles, I spent three hours in a hasty walk through 
the palace, which allowed but a bare glance at the gorgeous 
paintings of Horace Vernet. His " Taking of Constan- 
tino" has the vivid look of reality. The white houses 
shine in the sun, and from the bleached earth to the blue 
and dazzling sky there seems to hang a heavy, scorching 
atmosphere. The white smoke of the artillery curls almost 
visibly off the canvas, and the cracked and half-sprung 
walls look as if about to topple down on the besiegers. 
One series of halls is devoted to the illustration of the 
knightly chronicles of France from the days of Charle- 
magne to those of Bayard and Gaston de Foix. Among 
these pictured legends, I looked with the deepest interest 
on that of the noble girl of Orleans. Her countenance — 
the same in all these pictures, and in a beautiful statue of 
her which stands in one of the corridors — is said to be 
copied from an old and well-authenticated portrait. United 
to the sweetness and purity of peasant beauty, she has the 
lofty brow and inspired expression of a prophetess. There 
is a soft light in her full blue eye that does not belong to 



A GLOOMY WALK. 415 

earth. I wonder not the soldiery deemed her chosen by 
God to lead them to successful battle ; had I lived in those 
times, I could have followed her consecrated banner to the 
ends of the earth. In the statue she stands musing, with 
her head drooping forward, as if the weight of the breastplate 
oppressed her woman's heart ; the melancholy soul which 
shines through the marble seems to forebode the fearful 
winding up of her eventful destiny. The afternoon was 
somewhat advanced by the time I had seen the palace and 
gardens. After a hurried dinner at a restaurant, I shoul- 
dered my knapsack and took the road to St. Germain. 
The day was gloomy and cheerless, and I should have felt 
very lonely but for the thought of soon reaching England. 
There is no time of the year more melancholy than a 
cold, cloudy day in March ; whatever may be the beauties 
of pedestrian travelling in fairer seasons, my experience 
dictates that during winter storms and March glooms it had 
better be dispensed with. However, I pushed on to St. Ger- 
main, threaded its long streets, looked down from the height 
over its magnificent tract of forest and turned westward 
down the Seine. Owing to the scantiness of villages, I was 
obliged to walk an hour and a half in the wind and dark- 
ness before I reached a solitary inn. As I opened the door 
and asked for lodging the landlady inquired if I had the 
necessary papers ; I answered in the affirmative, and was 
admitted. While I was eating supper, they prepared their 
meal on the other end of the small table and sat down to- 
gether. They fell into the error so common to ignorant 
persons — of thinking a foreigner could not understand them 
— and began talking quite unconcernedly about me. " Why 
don't he take the railroad ?" said the old man. " He must 
have very little money ; it would be bad for us if he had 
none." — " Oh," remarked his son, " if he had none, he would 
not be sitting there so quiet and unconcerned." (I thought 
there was some knowledge of human nature in this remark.) 
- — "And, besides," added the landlady, " there is no danger 



416 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

for us, for we have his passport." Of course I enjoyed this 
in secret, and mentally pardoned their suspicions when I 
reflected that the high-roads between Paris and London are 
frequented by many impostors, which makes the people 
naturally mistrustful. 

I walked all the next day through a beautiful and richly- 
cultivated country. The early fruit trees were bursting into 
bloom, and the farmers led out their cattle to pasturage in 
the fresh meadows. The scenery must be delightful in sum- 
mer — worthy of all that has been said or sung about lovely 
Normandy. On the morning of the third day, before reach- 
ino; Rouen, I saw at a distance the remains of Chateau Gal- 
liard, the favorite castle of Richard Coeur de Lion. Rouen 
breathes everywhere of the ancient times of Normandy. 
Nothing can be more picturesque than its quaint, irregular 
wooden houses and the low mossy mills spanning the clear 
streams which rush through its streets. The cathedral, with 
its four towers, rises from among the clustered cottages like 
a giant rock split by the lightning and worn by the rains 
of centuries into a thousand fantastic shapes. 

Resuming my walk in the afternoon, I climbed the heights 
west of the city, and after passing through a suburb four 
or five miles in length entered the vale of the Cailly. This 
is one of the sweetest scenes in France. It lies among the 
woody hills like a Paradise, with its velvet meadows and 
villas and breathing-gardens. The grass was starred with 
daisies ; and if I took a step into the oak and chestnut 
woods, I trampled on thousands of anemones and fragrant 
daffodils. The upland plain, stretching inward from the 
coast, wears a different character. As I ascended, toward 
evening, and walked over its monotonous swells, I felt al- 
most homesick beneath its saddening influence. The sun, 
hazed over with dull clouds, gave out that cold and lifeless 
light which is more lonely than complete darkness ; the 
v»'ind, sweeping dismally over the fields, sent clouds of blind- 
ing dust down the road, and as it passed through the forests 



DIEPPE. 417 

the myriads of fine twigs sent up a sound as deep and grand 
as the roar of a roused ocean. Every chink of the Norman 
cottage where I slept whistled most drearily, and as I look- 
ed out the little window of my room the trees were swaying 
in the gloom and long black clouds scudded across the sky. 
Though my bed was poor and hard, it was a sublime sound 
that cradled me into slumber. Homer might have used it 
as the lullaby of Jove. 

My last day on the Continent came. I rose early, and 
walked over the hills tow^ard Dieppe. The scenery grew 
more bleak as I approached the sea, but the low and shel- 
tered valleys preserved the pastoral look of the interior. 
In the afternoon, as I climbed a long elevated ridge over 
which a strong north-wester was blowing, I was struck with 
a beautiful rustic church in one of the dells below me. 
While admiring its neat tower I had gained unconsciously 
the summit of the hill, and on turning suddenly around, lo ! 
there was the glorious old Atlantic stretching far before and 
around me. A shower was sweeping mistily along the hori- 
zon ; and I could trace the white line of the breakers that 
foamed at the foot of the cliffs. The scene came over me 
like a vivid electric shock, and I gave an involuntary shout 
which might have been heard in all the valleys around. 
After a year and a half of wandering over the Continent, 
that gray ocean was something to be revered and loved, for 
it clasped the shores of my native America. 

I entered Dieppe in a heavy shower ; and after finding 
an inn suited to my means and obtaining a permis d'em- 
harquement from the police-ofiice, I went out to the battle- 
ments and looked again on the sea. The landlord promised 
to call me in time for the boat, but my anxiety waked me 
sooner, and, mistaking the strokes of the cathedral-bell, I 
shouldered my knapsack and went down to the wharf at 
one o'clock. No one was stirring on board the boat, and I 
was obliged to pace the silent, gloomy streets of the town 
for two hours. I watched t^ie steamer glide out on the 
27 



418 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

rainy channel, and, turning into the topmost berth, drew 
the sliding curtain and strove to keep out cold and sea- 
sickness, but it was unavailing. A heavy storm of snow 
and rain rendered our passage so dreary that I did not stir 
until we were approaching the chain-pier of Brighton. 

I looked out on the foggy shores of England with a feel- 
ing of relief : my tongue would now be freed from the dif- 
ficult bondage of foreign languages, and my ears be re- 
joiced with the music of my own. After two hours' delay 
at the custom-house, I took my seat in an open car for Lon- 
don. The day was dull and cold ; the sun resembled a 
milky blotch in the midst of a leaden sky. I sat and shiv- 
ered as we flew onward amid the rich, cultivated English 
scenery. At last the fog grew thicker. The road was car- 
ried over the tops of houses, the familiar dome of St. Paul's 
stood out above the spires, and I was again in London. 



CHAPTER XLVII. 

LOCKHAET, BERNARD BARTON AND CROLY. — LONDON 
CHIMES AND GREENWICH FAIR. 

My circumstances on arriving at London were again 
very reduced. A franc and a half constituted the whole 
of my funds. This, joined to the knowledge of London 
expenses, rendered instant exertion necessary to prevent 
still greater embarrassment. I called on a printer the next 
morning, hoping to procure work, but found, as I had no 
documents with me to show I had served a regular appren- 
ticeship, this would be extremely difficult, although work- 
men were in great demand. Mr. Putnam, however, on 
whom I had previously called, gave me employment for a 
time in his publishing establishment, and thus I was fortu- 



MURRAY, THE PUBLISHER. 419 

nately enabled to await the arrival of a remittance from 
home. 

Mrs. Trollope, whom I met in Florence, kindly gave me 
a letter to Murray, the publisher, and I visited him soon 
after my arrival. In his library I saw the original por- 
traits of Byron, Moore, Campbell, and the other authors 
who were intimate with him and his father. A day or two 
afterward I had the good fortune to breakfast with Lock- 
hart and Bernard Barton at the house of the former. Mr. 
Murray, through whom the invitation was given, accompa- 
nied me there. As it was late when we arrived at Regent's 
Park, we found them waiting, and sat down immediately to 
breakfast. 

I was much pleased with Lockhart's appearance and 
manners. He has a noble, manly countenance — in fact, the 
handsomest English face I ever saw — a quick, dark eye and 
an ample forehead shaded by locks which show as yet but 
few threads of gray. There is a peculiar charm in his rich, 
soft voice ; especially when reciting poetry, it has a clear, 
organ-like vibration which thrills deliciously on the ear. 
His daughter, who sat at the head of the table, is a most 
lovely and amiable girl. 

Bernard Barton, who is now quite an old man, is a very 
lively and sociable Friend. His head is gray and almost 
bald, but there is still plenty of fire in his eyes and life in 
his limbs. His many kind and amiable qualities endear 
him to a large circle of literary friends. He still continues 
writing, and within the last year has brought out a volume 
of simple, touching household verses. A picture of cheer- 
ful and contented old age has never been more briefly and 
beautifully drawn than in the following lines, which he sent 
me in answer to my desire to possess one of his poems in his 
own hand : 

STANZAS. 

I feel that I am growing old, 
Nor wish to hide that truth, 



420 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Conscious my heart is not more cold 
Than in my bygone youth. 

I cannot roam the country round 

As I was wont to do ; 
My feet a scantier circle bound, 

My eyes a narrower view. 

But on my mental vision rise 

Bright scenes of beauty still — 
Morn's splendor, evening's glowing skies, 

Valley and grove and hill. 

Nor can infirmities o'erwhelm 

The purer pleasures brought 
From the immortal spirit's realm 

Of feeling and of thought. 

My heart, let not dismay or doubt 

In thee an entrance win; 
Thou hast enjoyed thyself without ; 

Now seek thy joy within. 

During breakfast lie related to us a pleasant anecdote of 
Scott. He once wrote to the poet in behalf of a young lady 
who wished to have the description of Melrose, in the "Lay 
of the Last Minstrel," in the poet's own writing. Scott 
sent it, but added these lines to the conclusion : 

" Then go and muse with deepest awe 
On what the writer never saw. 
Who would not wander 'neath the moon 
To see what he could see at noon." 

We went afterward into Lockhart's library, which was 
full of interesting objects. I saw the private diary of Scott, 
kept until within a short time of his death. It was melancholy 
to trace the gradual failing of all his energies in the very 
wavering of the autograph. In a large volume of his cor- 
respondence containing letters from Campbell, Wordsworth, 



CEOLY. 421 

Byron, and all the distinguished characters of the age, I 
saw Campbell's " Battle of the Baltic " in his own hand. I 
was highly interested and gratified with the whole visit — the 
more so as Mr. Lockhart had invited me voluntarily with- 
out previous acquaintance. I have since heard him spoken 
of in the highest terms of esteem. 

I went one Sunday to the church of St. Stephen to hear 
Croly, the poet. The service, read by a drowsy clerk, was 
long and monotonous. I sat in a side-aisle looking up at 
the dome and listening to the rain which dashed in torrents 
against the window-panes. At last a tall gray-haired man 
came down the passage. He bowed with a sad smile so full 
of benevolence and resignation that it went into my heart 
at once, and I gave him an involuntary tribute of sympathy. 
He has a heavy affliction to bear — the death of his gallant 
son, one of the officers who were slain in the late battle of 
Ferozeshaw. His whole manner betrays the tokens of sub- 
dued but constant grief 

His sermon was peculiarly finished and appropriate. The 
language was clear and forcible, without that splendor of 
thought and dazzling vividness of imagery which mark 
" Salathiel," yet I could not help noticing that he delighted 
to dwell on the spiritualities of religion rather than its out- 
ward observances, which he seemed inclined to hurry over 
as lightly as possible. His mild gray eye and lofty forehead 
are more like the benevolent divine than the poet. I thought 
of Salathiel, and looked at the dignified, sorrowful man be- 
fore me. The picture of the accursed Judean vanished, and 
his own solemn lines rang on my ear : 

" The mighty grave 
Wraps lord and slave, 
Nor Pride nor Poverty dares come 
Within that prison-house, that tomb." 

Whenever I hear them or think of them again, I shall see 
in memory Croly's calm, pale countenance. 



422 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

" The chimes — the chimes of Mother-land, 
Of England green and old — 
That out from thane and ivied tower 
A thousand years have tolled !" 

I often thought of Coxe's beautiful ballad when, after a day 
spent in Waterloo Place, I have listened, on my way home- 
ward, to the chimes of Mary-le-bone chapel sounding sweetly 
and clearly above all the din of the Strand. There is some- 
thing in their silvery vibration which is far more expressive 
than the ordinary tones of a bell. The ear becomes weary 
of a continued toll — the sound of some bells seems to have 
nothing more in it than the ordinary clang of metal — but 
these simple notes, following one another so melodiously, 
fall on the ear, stunned by the ceaseless roar of carriages or 
the mingled cries of the mob, as gently and gratefully as 
drops of dew. Whether it be morning and they ring out 
louder and deeper through the mist, or midnight, when the 
vast ocean of being beneath them surges less noisily than 
its wont, they are alike full of melody and poetry. I have 
often paused deep in the night to hear those clear tones 
dropping down from the darkness, thrilling with their full, 
tremulous sweetness the still air of the lighted Strand, and 
winding away through dark, silent lanes and solitary courts 
till the ear of the careworn watcher is scarcely stirred with 
their dying vibrations. They seemed like those spirit- voices 
which at such times speak almost audibly to the heart. 
How delicious it must be, to those who dwell within the 
limits of their sound, to wake from some happy dream and 
hear those chimes blending in with their midnight fancies 
like the musical echo of the promised bliss ! I love these 
eloquent bells, and I think there must be many living out 
a life of misery and suffering to whom their tones come 
with an almost human consolation. The natures of the very 
cockneys who never go without the horizon of their vibra- 
tions is to my mind invested with one hue of poetry. 

A few days ago an American friend invited me to accom- 



GEEENWICH FAIR. . 423 

pany him to Greenwich fair. We took a penny steamer 
from Hungerford Market to London Bridge, and jumped 
into the cars, which go every five minutes. Twelve min- 
utes' ride above the chimneys of London and the vegetable- 
fields of Eotherhithe and Deptford brought us to Green- 
wich, and we followed the stream of people which was flow- 
ing from all parts of the city into the park. 

Here began the merriment. We heard on every side the 
noise of the scratchers — or, as the venders of these articles 
denominated them, " the fun of the fair." By this is meant 
a little notched wheel with a piece of w^ood fastened on it, 
like a miniature watchman's rattle. The " fun " consists in 
drawing them down the back of any one you pass, when 
they make a sound precisely like that of ripping cloth. The 
women take great delight in this, and, as it is only deemed 
politeness to return the compliment, we soon had enough to 
do. Nobody seemed to take the diversion amiss, but it 
was so irresistibly droll to see a large crowd engaged in 
this singular amusement that we both burst into hearty 
laughter. 

As we began ascending Greenwich Hill we were assailed 
with another kind of game. The ground was covered with 
smashed oranges, with which the people above and below 
were stoutly pelting each other. Half a dozen heavy ones 
whizzed uncomfortably near my head as I went up, and I 
saw several persons get the full benefit of a shot on their backs 
and breasts. The young country-lads and lasses amused 
themselves by running at full speed down the steep side of 
a hill. This was, however, a feat attended with some risk, 
for I saw one luckless girl describe an arc of a circle of 
which her feet were the centre and her body the radius. All 
was noise and nonsense. They ran to and fro under the 
long, hoary boughs of the venerable oaks that crest the 
summit, and clattered down the magnificent forest-avenues, 
w^hose budding foliage gave them little shelter from the 
passing April showers. 



424 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

The view from the top is splendid. The stately Thames 
curves through the plain below, which loses itself afar off 
in the mist ; Greenwich, with its massive hospital, lies just 
at one's feet, and in a clear day the domes of London skirt 
the horizon. The wood of the park is entirely oak — the 
majestic, dignified, English oak — which covers in pictur- 
esque clumps the sides and summits of the two billowy hills. 
It must be a sweet place in summer, when the dark, massive 
foliage is heavy on every mossy arm and the smooth and 
curving sward shines with thousands of field flowers. 

Owing to the showers, the streets were coated with mud 
of a consistence as soft and yielding as the most fleecy 
Persian carpet. Near the gate boys w^ere holding scores of 
donkeys, which they offered us at threepence for a ride of 
two miles. We walked down toward the river, and came 
at last to a group of tumblers who with muddy hands and 
feet were throwing somersets in the open street. I recog- 
nized them as old acquaintances of the Rue St. Antoine and 
tlie Champs Elysees, but the little boy who cried before be- 
cause he did not want to bend his head and feet into a 
ring, like a hoop-snake, had learned his part better by this 
time ; so that he went through it all without whimpering 
and came off with only a fiery-red face. The exercises of 
the young gentlemen were, of course, very graceful and 
classic, and the effect of their poses of strength was very 
much heightened by the muddy footmarks which they left 
on each other's orange-colored skins. 

The avenue of booths was still more diverting. Here, 
under sheets of leaky awning, were exposed for sale rows 
of gilded gingerbread kings and queens, and I cannot re- 
member how many men and women held me fast by the 
arms, determined to force me into buying a pound of them. 
We paused at the sign " Signer Urbani's Grand Magical 
Display." The title was attractive ; so we paid the penny 
admission, and walked behind the dark, mysterious cur- 
tain. Two bare brick walls, three benches and a little boy 



A SWING-RIDE. 425 

appeared to us. A sheet hung before us, upon which quiv- 
ered the shadow of some terrible head. At my friend's 
command, the boy (also a spectator) put out the light, when 
the awful and grinning face of a black woman became visi- 
ble. While we were admiring this striking production 
thus mysteriously revealed, Signor Urbani came in, and, 
seeing no hope of any more spectators, went behind the 
curtain and startled our sensitive nerves with six or seven 
skeleton and devil apparitions, winding up the wonderful 
entertainment with the same black head. We signified our 
entire approbation by due applause, and then went out to 
seek further novelties. 

The centre of the square was occupied by swings, where 
some eight or ten boat-loads of persons were flying topsy- 
turvy into the air, making one giddy to look at them, and 
constant fearful shrieks arose from the lady-swingers at 
finding themselves in a horizontal or inverted position high 
above the ground. One of the machines was like a great 
wheel with four cars attached, which mounted and de- 
scended with their motley freight. We got into the boat 
by way of experiment. The starting-motion was pleasant, 
but very soon it flew with a swiftness and to a height rather 
alarming. I began to repent having chosen such a mode 
of amusement, but held on as well as I could in my uneasy 
place. Presently we mounted till the long beam of our 
boat was horizontal. At one instant I saw three young 
ladies below me with their heads downward, like a shadow 
in the water ; the next, I was turned heels up, looking at 
them as a shadow does at its original. I was fast becoming 
sea-sick, when, after a few minutes of such giddy soaring, 
the ropes were slackened, and we all got out looking some- 
what pale, and feeling nervous if nothing else. 

There were also many great tents, hung with boughs and 
lighted with innumerable colored lamps, where the people 
danced their country dances in a choking cloud of dry 
sawdust. Conjurers and gymnastic performers were show- 



426 VIEWS A-FQOT. 

ing off on conspicuous platforms, and a continual sound of 
drums, cymbals and shrill trumpets called the attention of 
the crowd to some "wonderful exhibition" — some infant 
phenomenon, giant or three-headed pig. A great part of 
the crowd belonged, evidently, to the very worst part of 
society, but the watchfulness of the police prevented any 
open disorder. We came away early and in a quarter of 
an hour were in busy LondoQ, leaving far behind us the 
revel and debauch, which was prolonged through the whole 
night. 

London has the advantage of one of the most gloomy 
atmospheres in the world. During this opening spring 
weather no light, and scarcely any warmth, can penetrate 
the dull yellowish-gray mist which incessantly hangs over 
the city. Sometimes, at noon, W3 have for an hour or two 
a sickly gleam of sunshine, but it is soon swallowed up by 
the smoke and drizzling fog. The people carry umbrellas 
at all times, for the rain seems to drop spontaneously out 
of the very air, without waiting for the usual preparation 
of a gathering cloud. Professor Espy's rules would be of 
little avail here. 

A few days ago we had a real fog — a specimen of No- 
vember weather, as the people said. If November wears 
such a mantle, London during that sober month must fur- 
nish a good idea of the gloom of Hades. The streets were 
wrapped in a veil of dense mist of a dirty yellow color, as 
if the air had suddenly grown thick and mouldy. The 
houses on the opposite sides of the street were invisible, and 
the gas-lamps lighted in the shops burned with a white and 
ghastly flame. Carriages ran together in the streets, and I 
was kept constantly on the lookout lest some one should 
come suddenly out of the cloud around me, and we should 
meet with a shock like that of two knights at a tournament. 
As I stood in the centre of Trafalgar Square, with every 
object invisible around me, it reminded me (hoping the 
comparison will not be accepted in every particular) of 



ENGLISH EMIGEANTS. 427 

Satan resting in the middle of Chaos. The weather some- 
times continues thus for whole days together. 

April 26. 
An hour and a half of land are still allowed us, and then 
we shall set foot on the back of the oak-ribbed leviathan 
which will be our home until a thousand leagues of blue 
ocean are crossed. I shall hear the old Aldgate clock strike 
for the last time ; I shall take a last walk through the Mi- 
nories and past the Tower-yard ; and as we glide down the 
Thames, St. Paul's, half hidden in mist and coal-smoke, wiU 
probably be my last glimpse of London. 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 

HOMEWARD BOUND. — CONCLUSION. 

We slid out of St. Katharine's dock at noon on the ap- 
pointed day, and with a pair of sooty steamboats hitched 
to our vessel moved slowly down the Thames in mist and 
drizzling rain. I stayed on the wet deck all afternoon that 
I might more forcibly and joyously feel we were .again in 
motion on the waters and homeward bound. My attention 
was divided between the dreary views of Blackwall, Green- 
wich and Woolwich and the motley throng of passengers 
who were to form our ocean-society. An English family 
going out to settle in Canada were gathered together in 
great distress and anxiety, for the father had gone ashore 
in London at a late hour, and was left behind. When we 
anchored for the night at Gravesend, their fears were quiet- 
ed by his arrival in a skiff from the shore, as he had imme- 
diately followed us by railroad. 

My cousin and B had hastened on from Paris to join 



428 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

me, and a day before the sailing of the Victoria we took 
berths in the second cabin for twelve pounds ten shillings 
each, which in the London line of packets includes coarse 
but substantial fare for the whole voyage. Our funds were 
insufficient to pay even this, but Captain Morgan, less mis- 
trustful than my Norman landlord, generously agreed that 
the remainder of the fare should be paid in America. 

B and I, with two young Englishmen, took possession 

of a state-room of rough boards lighted by a bulFs-eye 
which in stormy weather leaked so much that our trunks 
swam in water. A narrow mattress and blanket, with a 
knapsack for a pillow, formed a passable bed. A long en- 
try between the rooms, lighted by a feeble swinging-lamp, 
was filled with a board table, around which the thirty-two 
second-cabin passengers met to discuss politics and salt pork, 
favorable winds and hard sea-biscuit. 

We lay becalmed opposite Sheerness the whole of the 
second day. At dusk a sudden squall came up which drove 
us foaming toward the North Foreland. When I went on 
deck in the morning, we had passed Dover and Brighton, 
and the Isle of Wight was rising dim ahead of us. The 
low English coast on our right was bordered by long 
reaches of dazzling chalky sand which glittered along the 
calm blue water. 

Gliding into the Bay of Portsmouth, we dropped anchor 
opposite the romantic town of Ryde, built on the sloping 
shore of the green Isle of Wight. Eight or nine vessels of 
the experimental squadron were anchored near us, and 
over the houses of Portsmouth I saw the masts of the Vic- 
tory, the flag-ship in the battle of Trafalgar on board of 
which Nelson was killed. The wind was not strong enough 
to permit the passage of the Needles, so at midnight we suc- 
ceeded in wearing back again into the Channel around the 
Isle of Wight. A head-wind forced us to tack away to- 
ward the shore of France. We were twice in sight of the 
rocky coast of Brittany, near Cherbourg, but the misty 



OCEAN-GKANDEUR. 429 

promontory of Land's End was our last glimpse of the Old 
World. 

On one of our first days at sea I caught a curlew, which 
came flying on weary wings toward us and alighted on one 
of the boats. Two of his brethren, too much exhausted or 
too timid to do likewise, dropped flat on the waves and re- 
signed themselves to their fate without a struggle. I slipped 
up and caught his long, lank legs while he was resting with 
flagging wings and half-shut eyes. We fed him, though it 
was difiicult to get anything down his reed-shaped bill ; but 
he took kindly to our force-work, and when we let him 
loose on the deck walked about with an air quite tame and 
familiar. He died, however, two days afterward. A French 
pigeon which was caught in the rigging lived and throve 
during the whole of the passage. 

A few days afterward a heavy storm came on, and we 
were all sleepless and sea-sick as long as it lasted. Thanks, 
however, to a beautiful law of memory, the recollection of 
that dismal period soon lost its unpleasantness, while the 
grand forms of beauty the vexed ocean presented will re- 
main for ever as distinct and abiding images. I kept on 
deck as long as I could stand, watching the giant waves 
over which our vessel took her course. They rolled up to- 
ward us, thirty or forty feet in height — dark-gray masses 
changing to a beautiful vitriol tint wherever the light 
struck through their countless and changing crests. It was 
a glorious thing to see our good ship mount slowly up the 
side of one of these watery hills till her prow was lifted 
high in air, then, rocking over its brow, plunge with a slight 
quiver downward, and plough up a briny cataract as she 
struck the vale. I never before realized the terrible sub- 
-limity of the sea. And yet it was a pride to see how man, 
strong in his godlike will, could bid defiance to those whelm- 
ing surges and brave their wrath unharmed. 

We swung up and down on the billows till we scarcely knew 
which way to stand. The most grave and sober personages 



430 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

suddenly found themselves reeling in a very undignified 
manner, and not a few measured their lengths on the slip- 
pery decks. Boxes and barrels were affected in like man- 
ner ; everything danced around us. Trunks ran out from 
under the berths, packages leaped down from the shelves, 
chairs skipped across the rooms, and at table knives, forks 
and mugs engaged in a general waltz and breakdown. One 
incident of this kind was rather laughable. One night, 
about midnight, the gale, which had been blowing violently, 
suddenly lulled, " as if," to use a sailor's phrase, " it had 
been chopped off." Instantly the ship gave a tremendous 
lurch, which was the signal for a general breaking loose. 
Two or three others followed so violently that for a moment 
I imagined the vessel had been thrown on her beam-ends. 
Trunks, crockery and barrels went banging down from one 
end of the ship to the other. The women in^the steerage 
set up an awful scream, and the German emigrants, think- 
ing we were in terrible danger, commenced praying with 
might and main. In the passage near our room stood sev- 
eral barrels filled with broken dishes, which at every lurch 
went banging from side to side, jarring the board partition 
and making a horrible din. I shall not soon forget the 
Babel which kept our eyes open that night. 

The 19th of May a calm came on. Our white wings 
flapped idly on the mast, and only the top-gallant sails were 
bent enough occasionally to lug us along at a mile an hour. 
A barque from Ceylon, making the most of the wind, with 
every rag of canvas set, passed us slowly on the way east- 
ward. The sun went down unclouded, and a glorious starry 
night brooded over us. Its clearness and brightness were 
to me indications of America. I longed to be on shore. 
The forests about home were then clothed in the delicate 
green of their first leaves, and that bland weather embraced 
the sweet earth like a blessing of Heaven. The gentle 
breath from out the west seemed made for the odor of vio- 
lets, and as it came to me over the slightly-ruffled deep I 



IN SIGHT OF AMERICA. 431 

thouglit how much sweeter it were to feel it while " wasting 
in wood-paths the voluptuous hours." 

Soon afterward a fresh wind sprung up, which increased 
rapidly till every sail was bent to the full. Our vessel 
parted the brine with an arrowy glide the ease and grace 
of which it is impossible to describe. The breeze held on 
steadily for two or three days, w^hich brought us to the 
southern extremity of the Banks. Here the air felt so 
sharp and chilling that I was afraid we might be under the 
lee of an iceberg, but in the evening the dull gray mass of 
clouds lifted themselves from the horizon, and the sun set 
in clear American beauty away beyond Labrador. The 
next morning we were enveloped in a dense fog, and the 
wind which bore us onward was of a piercing coldness. A 
sharp lookout was kept on the bow, but, as we could see but 
a short distance, it might have been dangerous had we met 
one of the Arctic squadron. At noon it cleared away 
again, and the bank of fog was visible a long time astern, 
piled along the horizon, reminding me of the Alps as seen 
from the plains of Piedmont. 

On the 31st the fortunate wind which carried us from the 
Banks failed us about thirty-five miles from Sandy Hook. 
We lay in the midst of the mackerel-fishery, with small 
schooners anchored all around us. Fog, dense and impen- 
etrable, weighed on the moveless ocean like an atmosphere 
of wool. The only incident to break the horrid monotony 
of the day was the arrival of a pilot with one or two news- 
papers detailing the account of the Mexican war. We 
heard in the afternoon the booming of the surf along the 
low beach of Long Island — hollow and faint, like the mur- 
mur of a shell. When the mist lifted a little, we saw the 
faint line of breakers along the shore. The Germans gath- 
ered on deck to sing their old familiar songs, and their 
voices blended beautifully together in the stillness. 

Next morning, at sunrise, we saw Sandy Hook ; at nine 
o'clock we weye telegraphed in New York by the station at 



432 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Coney Island ; at eleven the steamer Hercules met us out- 
side the Hook ; and at noon we were gliding up the Nar- 
rows, with the whole ship's company of four hundred per- 
sons on deck gazing on the beautiful shores of Staten Island 
and agreeing almost universally that it was the most de- 
lightful scene they had ever looked upon. 

And now I close the story of my long wandering as I 
began ' > — with a lay written on the deep : 

HOMEWARD BOUND. 
Farewell to Europe ! Days have come and gone 
Since misty England set behind the sea. 
Our ship climbs onward o'er the lifted waves 
That gather up in ridges, mountain-high, 
And like a sea-god conscious in his power 
Buffets the surges. Storm-arousing winds 
That sweep unchecked from frozen Labrador 
Make wintry music through the creaking shrouds. 
Th' horizon's ring that clasps the dreary view 
Lays mistily upon the gray Atlantic's breast, 
Shut out at times by bulk of sparry blue, 
That, rolling near us, heaves the swaying prow 
High on its shoulders, to descend again 
Ploughing a thousand cascades, and around 
Spreading the frothy foam. These watery gulfe, 
With storm and winds far-sweeping, hem us in 
Alone upon the waters. 

Days must pass — 
Many and weary-^between sea and sky. 
Our eyes, that long e'en now for the fresh green 
Of sprouting forests and the far blue stretch 
Of regal mountains piled along the sky, 
Must see for many an eve the level sun 
Sheathe with his latest gold the heaving brine, 
By thousand ripples shivered, or Night's pomp 
Brooding in silence, ebon and profound. 
Upon the murmuring darkness of the deep, 
Broken by flashings that the parted wave 
Sends white and starlike through its bursting foam. 
Yet not more dear the opening dawn of heaven 



"HOMEWARD BOUND." 433 

Poured on the earth in an Italian May, 

When souls take wings upon the scented air 

Of starry meadows and the yearning heart 

Pains with deep sweetness in the balmy time, 

Than these gray morns and days of misty blue 

And surges never ceasing ; for our prow 

Points to the sunset like a morning ray, 

And o'er the waves and through the sweeping storms. 

Through day and darkness, rushes ever on. 

Westward and westward still. Wliat joy can send 

The spirit thrilling onward with the wind 

In untamed exultation like the thought 

That fills the homeward-bound ? 

Country and home I 
Ah ! not the charm of silver-tongued romance 
Born of the feudal time, nor whatsoe'er 
Of dying glory fills the golden realms 
Of perished song where heaven-descended Art 
Still boasts her later triumphs, can compare 
With that one thought of liberty inherited — 
Of free life giv'n by fathers who were free, 
And to be left to children freer still. 
That pride and consciousness of manhood caught 
From boyish musings on the holy graves 
Of hero-martyrs, and from every form 
Which virgin Nature, mighty and unchained. 
Takes in an empire not less proudly so, 
Inspired in mountain-airs untainted yet 
By thousand generations' breathing, felt 
Like a near presence in the awful depths 
Of unhewn forests and upon the steep 
Where giant rivers take their maddening plunge, — 
Has grown impatient of the stifling damps 
Which hover close on Europe's shackled soil. 
Content to tread a while the holy steps 
Of Art and Genius, sacred through all time. 
The spirit breathed that dull, oppressive air 
Which, freighted with its tyrant-clouds, o'erweighs 
The upward throb of many a nation's soul — 
Amid those olden memories felt the thrall. 
But kept the birthright of its freer home. 
2S 



434 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

Here, on the world's blue highway, comes again 
The voice of Freedom, heard amid the roar 
Of sundered billows, while above the wave 
Rise visions of the forest and the stream. 
Like trailing robes the morning mists uproll, 
Torn by the mountain-pines ; the flashing rills 
Shout downward through the hollows of the vales; 
Down the great river's bosom shining sails 
Glide with a gradual motion, while from all — 
Hamlet and bowered homestead and proud town — 
Voices of joy ring far up into heaven. 

Yet louder, winds I Urge on our keel, ye waves, 
Swift as the spirit's yearnings ! We would ride 
With a loud stormy motion o'er your crests. 
With tempests shouting like a sudden joy 
Interpreting our triumph ! 'Tis your voice, 
Ye unchained elements, alone can speak 
The sympathetic feeling of the free — 
The arrowy impulse of the homeward-bound. 



I shall not attempt to describe the excitement of that 
afternoon. After thirty-seven days between sky and water, 
any shore would have been beautiful ; but when it was home, 
after we had been two years absent during an age when 
time is always slow, it required a powerful effort to main- 
tain any propriety of manner. The steward prepared a 
parting dinner much better than any we had had at sea, 
but I tried in vain to eat. Never were trees such a glori- 
ous green as those around the quarantine buildings, where 
we lay to for half an hour to be visited by the physician. 
The day was cloudy and thick mist hung on the tops of the 
hills, but I felt as if I could never tire looking at the land. 

At last we approached the city. It appeared smaller than 
when I left, but this might have been because I was habitu- 
ated to the broad distances of the sea. Our scanty baggage 
was brought on deck for the inspection of the custom-house 
officer, but we were neither annoyed nor delayed by the 
operation. The steamer by this time had taken us to the 
pier at Pine Street wharf, and the slight jar of the vessel 



NEW YORK. 435 

as she came alongside sent a thrill of delight through our 
frames. But when finally the ladder was let down and we 
sprang upon the pier, it was with an electric shock, as if of 
recognition from the very soil. It was about four o'clock 
in the afternoon, and we were glad that night was so near 
at hand. After such strong excitement, and even bewilder 
ment of feeling, as we had known since morning, the pros 
pect of rest was very attractive. 

But no sooner were we fairly deposited in a hotel than 
we must needs see the city again. How we had talked over 
this hour ! How we had thought of the life, the neatness, 
the comfort, of our American cities, when rambling through 
some filthy and depopulated capital of the Old World ! At 
first sight our anticipations were not borne out. There had 
been heavy rains for a week or two, and the streets were not 
remarkably clean ; houses were being built up or taken 
down on all sides, and the number of trees in full foliage 
everywhere visible gave us the idea of an immense unfin- 
ished country-town. I took this back, it is true, the next 
morning, when the sun was bright and the streets were 
thronged with people. But what activity ! what a restless 
eagerness, and even keenness of expression, on every coun- 
tenance ! I could not have believed that the general cast 
of the American face was so sharp ; yet nothing was so re- 
markable as the perfect independence of manner which we 
noticed in all, down to the very children. I can easily con- 
ceive how this should jar with the feelings of a stranger 
accustomed to the deference — not to say servility — in which 
the largest class of the people of Europe is trained ; but it 
was a most refreshing change to us. Life at sea sharpens 
one's sensibilities to the sounds and scents of land in a very 
high degree. We noticed a difference in the atmosphere 
of different streets, and in the scent of leaves and grass, 
which a land-friend who was with us failed entirely to dis- 
tinguish. 

The next day, as we left New York and in perfect exul- 
tation of spirit sped across New Jersey (which was never 



436 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

half SQ beautiful to our eyes), I could feel nothing but one 
continued sensation of the country. Fragrant hayfield and 
wild clearing, garden and marshy hollow, and the cool 
shadow of the woodlands, — I was by turns possessed with 
the spirit of them all. The twilight deepened as we passed 
down the Delaware. I stood on the promenade deck and 
watched the evening star kindling through the cloudless 
flush of sunset, while the winds that came over the glassy 
river bore me the odor of long-remembered meadow-flow- 
ers. We asked each other what there was in the twilights 
of Florence and Vallombrosa more delicious than this. 

A night in neat, cheerful, home-like Philadelphia — ^whose 
dimensions were also a little shrunken in our eyes — and a 
glorious June morning broke on the last day of our pil- 
grimage. Again we were on the Delaware, pacing the deck 
in rapture at the green, luxuriant beauty of its shores. Is 
it not worth years of absence to learn how to love one's 
land as it should be loved ? Two or three hours brought us 
to Wilmington, in Delaware, and within twelve miles of 
home. Now came the realization of a plan we had talked 
over a hundred times to keep up our spirits when the 
weather was gloomy or the journey lay through some waste 
of barren country. Our knapsacks, which had been laid 
down in Paris, were again taken up, slouched German hats 
substituted for our modern black cylinders, belt and blouse 
donned and the pilgrim-staff grasped for the rest of our 
journey. But it was part of our plan that we should not 
reach home till after nightfall — ^we could not think of see- 
ing any one we knew before those who were nearest to us-^ 
and so it was necessary to wait a few hours before starting. 

The time came. That walk of three or four hours seem- 
ed longer than many a day's tramp of thirty miles, but 
every step of the way was familiar ground. The people we 
met stared, laughed or looked suspiciously after us, but we 
were quite insensible to any observation. We only counted 
the fields, measured the distance from hill to hill, and 
watched the gradual decline of the broad, bright sun. It 



AT HOIME. 437 

went down at last, and our homes were not far off. When 
the twilight grew deeper, we parted, and each thought what 
an experience lay between that moment and the next morn- 
ing. I took to the fields, plunged into a sea of dewy clover, 
and made for a light which began to glimmer as it grew 
darker. When I reached it and looked with the most pain- 
ful excitement through the window on the unsuspecting 
group within, there was not one face missing. 



CHAPTEE XLIX. 

ADVICE AND INFOEMATION FOR PEDESTRIANS. 

Although the narrative of my journey " with knapsack 
and staff" is now strictly finished, a few more words of ex- 
planation seem necessary to describe more fully the method 
of travelling which we adopted. I add them the more will- 
ingly, as it is my belief that many whose circumstances 
are similar to mine desire to undertake the same romantic 
journey. Some matter-of-fact statements may be to them 
useful as well as interesting. 

To see Europe as a pedestrian requires little preparation, 
if the traveller is willing to forego some of the refinements 
of living to which he may have been accustomed for the 
sake of the new and interesting fields of observation which 
will be opened to him. He must be content to sleep on 
hard beds and partake of coarse fare, to undergo rudeness 
at times from the ofiicers of the police and the porters of 
palaces and galleries, or to travel for hours in rain and 
storm without finding a shelter. The knapsack will at 
first be heavy upon the shoulders, the feet will be sore and 
the limbs weary with the day's walk, and sometimes the 
spirit will begin to flag under the general fatigue of body. 
This, however, soon passes over. In a week's time, if the 
pedestrian does not attempt too much on setting out, his 
limbs are stronger and his gait more firm and vigorous; he 



438 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

lies down at night with a feeling of refreshing rest, sleeps 
with a soundness, undisturbed by a single dream, that 
seems almost like death, if he has been accustomed to 
restless nights, and rises invigorated in heart and frame for 
the next day's journey. The coarse black bread of the 
peasant-inns, with cheese no less coarse and a huge mug of 
milk or the nourishing beer of Germany, have a relish to 
his keen appetite which excites his own astonishment. And 
if he is willing to regard all incivility and attempts at im- 
position as valuable lessons in the study of human nature, 
and to keep his temper and cheerfulness in any situation 
which may try them, he is prepared to walk through the 
whole of Europe with more real pleasure to himself, and 
far more profit, than if he journeyed in style and enjoyed (?) 
the constant services of couriers and valets de place. Should 
his means become unusually scant, he will find it possible 
to travel on an amazingly small pittance, and with more 
actual bodily comfort than would seem possible to one who 
has not tried it. I was more than once obliged to walk a 
number of days in succession on less] than a franc a day, 
and found that by far the greatest drawback to my enjoy- 
ment was the fear that I might be without relief when this 
allowance should be exhausted. One observes, admires, 
wonders and learns quite as extensively under such circum- 
stances as if he had unlimited means. 

Perhaps some account of this truly pilgrim-like journey- 
ing may possess a little interest for the general reader. 

The only expense that cannot be reduced at will in 
Europe is that for sleeping. You may live on a crust of 
bread a day, but lower than four cents for a bed you can- 
not go. In Germany this is the regular price paid by trav- 
elling journeymen, and no one need wish for a more com- 
fortable resting-place than those massive boxes (when you 
have become accustomed to their shortness), with their 
coarse but clean linen sheets and healthy mattresses of 
straw. In Italy the price varies from half a paid to a 
paul (ten cents), but a person somewhat familiar with the 



OPEN-AIR LIFE. 438 

language would not often be asked more than the former 
price, for which he has a bed, stuffed with corn-husks, large 
enough for at least three men. I was asked in France five 
sous in all the village inns from Marseilles to Dieppe. The 
pedestrian cares far more for a good rest than for the 
quality of his fare, and a walk of thirty miles prepares him 
to find it on the hardest couch. I usually rose before sunrise 
and immediately began the day's journey, the cost of lodg- 
ing having been paid the night before — a universal custom 
among the common inns which are frequented by the peas- 
antry. At the next village I would buy a loaf of the hard 
brown bread, with some cheese or butter, or whatever sub- 
stantial addition could be made at trifling cost, and break- 
fast upon a bank by the roadside, lying at full length on 
the dewy grass and using my knapsack as a table. I might 
also mention that a leathern pouch fastened to one side of 
this table contained a knife and fork, and one or two solid 
tin boxes for articles which could not be carried in the 
pocket. A similar pouch at the other side held pen and 
ink and a small bottle, which was filled sometimes with the 
fresh water of the streams, and sometimes with the common 
country wine of the year's vintage, which costs from three 
to six sous the quart. 

After walking more than half the distance to be accom- 
plished, with half an hour's rest, dinner would be made in 
the same manner, and while we rested the full hour allotted 
to the midday halt guide-books would be examined, jour- 
nals written, a sketch made of the landscape or our minds 
refreshed by reading a passage in Milton or " Childe Har- 
old." If it was during the cold, wet days of winter, we 
sought a rock, or sometimes the broad abutment of a chance 
bridge upon which to lie ; in summer it mattered little 
whether we rested in sun or shade, under a bright or rainy 
Bky. The vital energy which this life in the open air gives 
to the constitution is remarkable. The very sensation of 
health and strength becomes a positive luxury, and the 
heart overflows with its buoyant exuberance of cheerful- 



440 



VIEWS A-FOOT. 



ness. Every breath of the fresh morning air was like a 
draught of some sparkling elixir gifted with all the potency 
of the undiscovered Fountain of Youth. We felt pent and 
oppressed within the walls of a dwelling ; it was far more 
agreeable to march in the face of a driving shower, under 
whose beating the blood grew fresh and warm, than to sit 
by a dull fireplace waiting for it to cease. Although I had 
lived mainly upon a farm till the age of seventeen and was 
accustomed to out-door exercise, I never before felt how 
much life one may draw from air and sunshine alone. 

Thus what at first was borne as a hardship became at last 
an enjoyment, and there seemed to me no situation so ex- 
treme that it did not possess some charm to my mind which 
made me unwilling to shrink from the experience. Still, 
as one depth of endurance after another was reached, the 
words of Cicero would recur to me as encouragement: 
" Perhaps even this may hereafter be remembered with 
pleasure." Once only, while waiting six days at Lyons in 
gloomy weather and among harsh people, without a sous 
and with a strong doubt of receiving any relief, I became 
indifierent to what might happen, and would have passively 
met any change for the worse, as men who have been ex- 
posed to shipwreck for days scarce make an efibrt to save 
themselves when the vessel strikes at last. 

One little experience of this kind, though less desperate, 
may be worth relating. It happened during my stay in 
Florence ; and what might not a man bear for the sake of 
living in the midst of such a paradise? My comrade and 
I had failed to receive a remittance at the expected time, 
and our funds had gone down to zero. The remaining one 
of Qur trio of Americans who had taken a suite of rooms 
in company — a noble-hearted Kentuckian — shared his own 
means with us till what he had in Florence was nearly ex- 
hausted. His banker lived in Leghorn, and he concluded 
to go there and draw for more instead of having it sent 

through a correspondent. B decided to accompany 

him, and two young Englishmen who had just arrived on 



STAEVATION EXPEBIENCE. 441 

foot from Geneva joined the party. They resolved on 
making an adventure out of the expedition, and it was ac- 
cordingly agreed that they should take one of the market- 
boats of the Arno and sail down to Pisa, more than fifty 
miles distant, by the river. We paid one or two visits to 
the western gate of the city, where numbers of these craft 
always lie at anchor, and struck a bargain with a sturdy 
boatman that he should take them for a scudo (about one 
dollar) each. 

The hour of starting was nine o'clock in the evening, and 
I accompanied them to the starting-place. The boat had a 
slight canvas covering, and the crew consisted only of the 
owner and his son Antonio, a boy of ten. I shall not re- 
count their voyage all that night (which was so cold that 
they tied each other up in the boatman's meal-bags, around 
the neck, and lay down in a heap on the ribbed bottom of 
the boat) nor their adventures in Pisa and Leghorn. They 
were to be absent three or four days and had left me money 
enough to live upon in the mean time, but the next morning 
an unexpected expense consumed nearly the whole of it. 
I had about four crazie (three cents) a day for my meals, 
and by spending one of these for bread and the remainder 
for ripe figs — of which one crazie will purchase fifteen or 
twenty — I managed to make a diminutive breakfast and 
dinner, but was careful not to take much exercise, on ac- 
count of the increase of hunger. As it happened, my 
friends remained two days longer than I had expected, and 
the last two crazie I had were expended for one day's pro- 
visions. I then decided to try the next day without any- 
thing, and actually felt a curiosity to know what one's sen- 
sations would be on experiencing two or three days of 
starvation. I knew that if the feeling should become in- 
supportable I could easily walk out to the mountain of 
Fiesole, where a fine fig orchard shaded the old Roman am- 
phitheatre. But the experiment was broken ofi* in its com- 
mencement by the arrival of the absent ones in the middle 
of the night. Such is the weakness of human nature that, 



442 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

on finding I should not want for breakfast, I arose from bed 
and ate two or three figs which by a strong exertion I had 
saved from the scanty allowance of the day. I only relate 
this incident to show that the severest deprivation is very 
easily borne, and that it is worth bearing for what it teaches. 

So, also, when a storm came up at nightfall while we 
were a league distant from the end of our journey, after the 
first natural shrinking from its violence was over, there was 
a sublime pleasure in walking in the midst of darkness and 
dashing rain. There have been times when the sky v/as 
black, just revealing its deeps of whelming cloud, and the 
winds full of the cold, fresh, saddening spirit of the storm, 
which I would not have exchanged for the brightness of a 
morning beside the sea. 

A few words in relation to a pedestrian's equipment may 
be of some practical value. An idea of the general appear- 
ance of the travelling costume of a German student — which 
I adopted as the most serviceable and agreeable — may be 
obtained from the portrait accompanying this volume, but 
there are many small particulars, in addition, which I have 
often been asked to give. It is the best plan to take no 
more clothing than is absolutely required, as the traveller 
will not desire to carry more than fifteen pounds on his 
back, knapsack included. A single suit of good dark cloth, 
with a supply of linen, will be amply sufi^icient. The strong 
linen blouse confined by a leather belt will protect it from 
the dust ; and when this is thrown aside on entering a city, 
the traveller makes a very respectable appearance. The 
slouched hat of finely-woven felt is a delightful covering to 
the head, serving at the same time as umbrella or night-cap, 
travelling dress or visiting costume. No one should neglect 
a good cane, which, besides its feeling of companionship, is 
equal to from three to five miles a day, and may serve as 
a defence against banditti or savage Bohemian dogs. In 
the Alps the tall staves pointed with iron and topped with 
a curved chamois-horn can be bought for a franc apiece, 
and are of great assistance in crossing ice-fields or sustain- 



KNAPSACK EQUIPMENT. 443 

ing the weight of the body in descending steep and difficult 
passes. 

An umbrella is inconvenient, unless it is short and may 
be strapped on the knapsack, but even then an ample cape 
of oiled silk or India-rubber cloth is far preferable. The 
pedestrian need not be particular in this respect : he will 
soon grow accustomed to an occasional drenching, and I 
am not sure that men, like plants, do not thrive under it 
when they have outgrown the hot-house nature of civiliza- 
tion in a life under the open heaven. A portfolio capable 
of hard service, with a guide-book or two, pocket-compass 
and spyglass, completes the contents of the knapsack, 
though, if there is still a small corner to spare, I would rec- 
ommend that it be filled with pocket editions of one or two 
of the good old English classics. It is a rare delight to sit 
down in the gloomy fastnesses of the Hartz or in the breezy 
valleys of Styria and read the majestic measures of our 
glorious Saxon bards. Milton is first fully appreciated 
when you look up from his page to the snowy ramparts of 
the Alps which shut out all but the heaven of whose beauty 
he sang, and all times and places are fitting for the univer- 
sal Shakespeare. " Childe Harold " bears such a glowing 
impress of the scenery on which Byron's eye has dwelt that 
it spoke to me like the answering heart of a friend from the 
crag of Drachenfels, in the rushing of the arrowy Rhone and 
beside the breathing marbles of the Vatican and the Capitol. 

A little facility in sketching from nature is a most useful 
and delightful accomplishment for the pedestrian. He may 
bring away the features of wild and unvisited landscapes, 
the picturesque fronts of peasant-cottages and wayside shrines, 
or the simple beauty of some mountain-child watching his 
herd of goats. Though having little knowledge and no 
practice in the art, I persevered in my awkward attempts, 
and was soon able to take a rough and rapid but tolerably 
correct outline of almost any scene. These memorials of 
two years of travel have now a value to me which I would 
not exchange for the finest engravings, however they might 



444 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

excel in faithful representation. Another article of equip- 
ment which I had almost forgotten to mention is a small 
bottle of the best cognac with which to bathe the feet morn- 
ing and evening for the first week or two, or as long as they 
continue tender with the exercise. It was also very strength- 
ening and refreshing, when the body was unusually weary 
with a long day's walking or climbing, to use as an outward 
stimulant, for I never had occasion to apply it internally. 
Many of the German students wear a wicker flask slung 
over their shoulder containing kirschwasser, which they mix 
with the water of the mountain-streams, but this is not at 
all necessary to the traveller's health and comfort. 

These students, with all their irregularities, are a noble, 
warm-hearted class, and make the best companions in the 
world. During the months of August and September hun- 
dreds of them ramble through Switzerland and the Tyrol, 
extending their route sometimes to Venice and Rome. With 
their ardent love for everything republican, they will always 
receive an American heartily, consecrate him as a bursch 
and admit him to their fellowship. With the most of them 
an economy of expense is part of the habit of their student- 
life, and they are only spendthrifts on the articles of beer 
and tobacco. A month's residence in Heidelberg — ^the 
most beautiful place in Germany — will serve to make the 
young American acquainted with their habits and able to 
join them for an adventurous foot-journey with the greatest 
advantage to himself. 

We always accepted a companion, of whatever kind, , 
while walking — from chimney-sweeps to barons. In a | 
strange country one can learn something from every peas- 
ant, and we neglected no opportunity not only to obtain 
information, but to impart it. We found everywhere great 
curiosity respecting America, and we were always glad to 
tell them all they wished to know. In Germany we were 
generally taken for Germans from some part of the country 
where the dialect was a little different ; or if they remarked 
our foreign peculiarities, they supposed we were either Poles, 



IGNORANCE CONCEBNING AMERICA. 445 

Russians or Swiss. The greatest ignorance in relation to 
America prevails among the common people. They imag- 
ine we are a savage race without intelligence, and almost 
without law. Persons of education who had some slight 
knowledge of our history showed a curiosity to know some- 
thing of our political condition. They are taught by the 
German newspapers (which are under a strict censorship 
in this respect) to look only at the evil in our country, and 
they almost invariably began by adverting to slavery and 
repudiation. While we admitted — often with shame and 
mortification — ^the existence of things so inconsistent with 
true republicanism, we endeavored to make them compre- 
hend the advantages enjoyed by the free citizen, the com- 
plete equality of birth which places America, despite her 
sins, far above any other nation on earth. I could plainly 
see by the kindling eye and half-suppressed sigh that they 
appreciated a freedom so immeasurably greater than that 
which they enjoyed. 

In large cities we always preferred to take the second- or 
third-rate hotels, which are generally visited by merchants 
and persons who travel on business ; for, with the same 
comforts as the first rank, they are nearly twice as cheap. 
A traveller with a guide-book and a good pair of eyes can 
also dispense with the services of a courier, whose duty it is 
to conduct strangers about the city from one lion to another. 
We chose rather to find out and view the sights at our 
leisure. In small villages where we were often obliged to 
stop we chose the best hotels, which, particularly in North- 
ern Germany and in Italy, are none too good ; but if it was 
a post — that is, a town where the postchaise stops to change 
horses — ^we usually avoided the post-hotel, where one must 
pay high for having curtains before his windows and a more 
elegant cover on his bed. In the less splendid country-inns 
we always found neat, comfortable lodging and a pleasant, 
friendly reception from the people. They saluted us on en- 
tering with " Be you welcome !" and on leaving wished us a 
pleasant journey and good fortune. The host, when he 



446 VIEWS A-FOOT. 

brought us supper or breakfast, lifted his cap and wished 
us a good appetite, and when he lighted us to our chambers 
left us with "May you sleep well!" We generally found 
honest, friendly people ; they delighted in telling us about 
the country around — what ruins there were in the neighbor- 
hood, and what strange legends were connected with them. 
The only part of Europe where it is unpleasant to travel in 
this manner is Bohemia. We could scarcely find a com- 
fortable inn ; the people all spoke an unknown language 
and were not particularly celebrated for their honesty. Be- 
sides this, travellers rarely go on foot in those regions ; we 
were frequently taken for travelling handwerker and sub- 
jected to imposition. 

With regard to passports, although they were vexatious 
and often expensive, we found little difficulty when we had 
acquainted ourselves with the regulations concerning them. 
In France and Germany they are comparatively little trou- 
ble ; in Italy they are the traveller's greatest annoyance, 
Americans are treated with less strictness in this respect 
than citizens of other nations, and, owing to the absence of 
rank among us, they also enjoy greater advantages* of ac- 
quaintance and intercourse. 

The expenses of travelling in England, although much 
greater than in our own country, may, as we learned by 
experience, be brought through economy within the same 
compass. Indeed, it is my belief from observation that, 
with few exceptions, throughout Europe, where a traveller 
enjoys the same comfort and abundance as in America, he 
must pay the same prices. The principal difference is that 
he only pays for what he gets ; so that if he be content 
with the necessities of life, without its luxuries, the expense 
is in proportion. 

The best coin for the traveller's purpose is English gold, 
which passes at a considerable premium on the Continent 
and is readily accepted at all the principal hotels. Having 
to earn my means as I went along, I was obliged to have 
money forwarded in small remittances, generally in drafts 



A FKEE PASSPORT. 447 

on the house of Hottinger & Co., in Paris, which could be 
cashed in any large city of Europe. If only a short tour 
is intended and the pedestrian's means are limited, he may 
easily carry the necessary amount with him. There is little 
danger of robbery for those who journey in such a hum- 
ble style. I never lost a single article in this manner, and 
rarely had any feeling but that of perfect security. No 
part of our own country is safer in this respect than Ger- 
many, Switzerland or France. Italy still bears an unfortu- 
nate reputation for honesty ; the defiles of the Apennines 
and the hollows of the Eoman Campagna are haunted by 
banditti, and persons who travel in their own carriages are 
often plundered. I saw the caves and hiding-places of these 
outlaws among the evergreen shrubbery in the pass of Monte 
Somma, near Spoleto, but, as we had a dragoon in the crazy 
old vehicle, we feared no hindrance from them. A Swed- 
ish gentleman in Rome told me he had walked from Ancona 
through the mountains to the Eternal City, partly by night, 
but that, although he met with many meaning faces, he was 
not disturbed in any way. An English artist of my ac- 
quaintance walked from Leghorn along the Tuscan and 
Tyrrhene coast to Civita Vecchia through a barren and 
savage district overgrown with aloes and cork trees with- 
out experiencing any trouble except from the extreme curi- 
osity of the ignorant inhabitants. The fastnesses of the 
Abruzzi have been explored with like facility by daring 
pedestrians ; indeed, the sight of a knapsack seems to serve 
as a free passport with all highwaymen. 

I have given at times through the foregoing chapters the 
cost of portions of my journey and residence in various 
cities of Europe. The cheapest country for travelling, as 
far as my experience extended, is Southern Germany, where 
one can travel comfortably on twenty-five cents a day. 
Italy and the South of France come next in order, and are 
but little more expensive; then follow Switzerland and 
Northern Germany, and lastly Great Britain. The cheap- 
est city, and one of the pleasantest in the world, is Florence, 



448 VIEWS A-FOQT. 

where we breakfasted on five cents, dined sumptuously on 
twelve and went to a good opera for ten. A man would 
find no difficulty in spending a year there for about two 
hundred and fifty dollars. This fact may be of some im- 
portance to those whose health requires such a stay, yet are 
kept back from attempting the voyage through fear of the 
expense. Counting the passage to Leghorn at fifty or sixty 
dollars, it will be seen how little is necessary for a year's 
enjoyment of the sweet atmosphere of Italy. In addition to 
these particulars, the following connected estimate will bet- 
ter show the minimum expense of a two years' pilgrimage : 

Voyage to Liverpool in the second cabin $24 00 

Three weeks' travel in Ireland and Scotland . . . . 25 00 

A week in London, at three shillings a day 4 50 

From London to Heidelberg 15 00 

A month at Heidelberg, and trip to Frankfort . . . 20 00 
Seven months in Frankfort, at ten dollars per month 70 00 
Fuel, passports, excursions, and other expenses . . 30 00 
Tour through Cassel, the Hartz, Saxony, Austria, Ba- 
varia, etc 40 00 

A month in Frankfort 10 00 

From Frankfort through Switzerland, and over the 

Alps to Milan 15 00 

From Milan to Genoa 60 

Expenses from Genoa to Florence 14 00 

Four months in Florence 50 00 

Eight days' journey from Florence to Rome, two 
weeks in Rome, voyage to Marseilles and jour- 
ney to Paris 40 00 

Five weeks in Paris t 15 00 

From Paris to London 8 00 

Six weeks in London, at three shillings a day . . . 31 00 

Passage home 60 00 

$472 10 

The cost for places of amusement, guides' fees and other 
small expenses not included in this list increase the sum- 
total to five hundred dollars, for which the tour may be 
made. Now, having, I hope, established this to the reader's 
satisfaction, I respectfully take leave of him. 



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" The appearance of these novels constitutes an epoch in the orna- 
mental literature of America. They are the first decidedly successful 
attempts in the walk of romantic fiction." — William H. Prescott. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 

Essays, First Series. Complete. 
Essays, Second Series. Complete. 

Sold separately, or the set in a box. 

Representative Men. 

Nature, Addresses and Lectures. 

Sold separately, or together in a box. 

" A more independent and original thinker can nowhere, in this 
age, be found." — Blackwood' s Magazine. 

HawthornCy Nathaniel. 

Mosses from an Old Manse. 

Twice Told Tales. 

The Scarlet Letter. 

The House of the Seven Gables. 

" His style is as clear as the rranning waters are." — Henry Wads- 
worth Loitgfellotu. 



Irvingy Washingtoji. 

Columbus, Life and Voyages of. Two volumes, Maps 

and Portraits. 

" Irving weighs doubtful facts in the scale of golden criticism." — 
North American Reviezv, 

Knickerbocker's History of New York, 
The Sketch Book. 

"I have read the 'Sketch Book;* it is positively beautiful." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 

Outre-Mer. a Pilgrimage Beyond the Sea. 

Hyperion. A Romance. 

Kavanaugh and Evangeline. One volume. 

" He idealizes real life, he elicits new meaning from many of its 
rough shows ; he embodies high moral sentiment in beautiful and en- 
nobling forms." — Edwin Percy Whipple, 

Lowell, yames Russell. 
The Old Poets, Conversations on Some of. 

" This work is full of a young man's generous enthusiasm for every- 
thing that is beautiful in poetic thought and dainty in expression. 
. . . . . It has the fresnness of youthful delight, and justifies its ' 
author's claim of being ' spontaneous and honest.' " — London Specta 
tor, April 22, 1893. 

Marvel Ik: Donald G. Mitchell. 

Reveries of a Bachelor. Illustrated. 
Dream Life. 

Prescott, William H. 

Conquest of Mexico. Three volumes, Maps, Portraits 
and Notes. 

Conquest of Peru. Two volumes, Maps, Portraits and 
Notes. 

Ferdinand and Isabella, Three volumes, Maps, Por- 
traits and Notes. 
" It is a noble work, judiciously planned and admirably executed; 

rich with the spoils of learning easily and gracefully -worn."— North 

American Review. 

Stowe, Harriet Beecher. 

Uncle Tom's Cabin. Illustrated. 

Taylor, J. Bayard. 

Views Afoot, or Europe Seen with Knapsack and 
Staff. • |^ ^ 

" V/e, too, are richei^R his tr Jel^^^ \^ aij^unt of an earnest, 
sensible and manly hoc^J^fl^ondo^^ 








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